Enslaved by Lies
by A L P H A - H U N T R E S S
Summary: An artificial intelligence created to mimic human behaviors, is made human to cover the murder of an prominent young socialite. Using her specific skill set, she must lead herself and others to safety during the Raccoon City outbreak, but that is only the beginning.
1. Valete Spencer

_**April, 1990 – **_

_**8 Years before Raccoon City Incident**_

_Freedom…_

So simple a desire, so difficult to obtain or at least it had not till a few moments ago when her reality came crashing down upon her head tearing her false identity into worthless tatters and any fragile semblance of 'freedom' into nothingness.

Her reality?

She was Valete Spencer, second born child of a set of twins, the only daughter of Ozwell and Verena Spencer and she, she'd finally been found. The fact that her Father no doubt wanted this kept quiet was the blessed reason the news crews weren't swarming the Ashford Mansion at this very moment, and it was BIG news. As if the personal triangle of connection between herself, her Father, and Umbrella weren't enough, the fact she was cosseted, indulged and STILL actually estranged from her Father drew the news crews to the family scandal like bloodhounds to gore. In truth that was part of the reason she'd run away to begin with, to escape the pressure, to escape the privileges and consequences of being ONE heir of many to the Umbrella Corporation and its fortune, its legacy.

That, and well, Alfred Ashford, the cross-dressing wonder her father had promised to her to. This escape had been more than a bid for freedom it had been a creative OUTLET for pure protest against that. At least Valean, her brother, got someone beautiful and intelligent and amazing like Alexia Ashford. That is more than she could say and there was pictures as far back as age five in which the four heirs, two pairs of twins: Valete and Valean, Alexia and Alfred, were together as if getting them used to each other young would make things 'work out' in the future for the whole entirety for the rest of their unnatural lives. No way, no thank you, as soon as she was old enough she'd found a way to bypass a trust fund her mother had established, a majority of it was still intact she'd been most frugal in her spending, the bulk of most the money she'd spent had to finish off her college tuition. One thing she was not was stupid, heavy spending tended to draw attention and she was a 'cash only' type, she didn't leave a paper trail.

It made it all the more frustrating that she'd been found NOW in her place of employment out of chance, someone had recognized her description as a missing person and now, now they were told to take her into protective custody. It was a fancy way of saying 'drag her back to her father if she didn't come quietly', "Ms. Valete Spencer?"

The male was dressed in an impeccable, flawlessly pressed suit. A pale hand with perfect long graceful fingers brushed a stray strand of brown so dark it was almost black away from her cheek, eyes a blue so intense it was almost an eerie color of frost incarnate, snapped on the speaker as he said her name. A shame she couldn't play the 'I only speak languages you don't know' card. By seven years of age, as a youth, she'd already known English, German, and Spanish in addition to her 'native' French, the fact that those were languages MOST Americans learned as teenagers not children wasn't lost on her but it had been expected for her to learn them, know them, AND retain them. By age 12, when she'd graduated from college by the way, she'd known Chinese, Japanese, Irish, Welsh, and Swahili. Languages were one thing she did enjoy; she took to them with a personal relish. Upstairs were books in which she was learning how to speak Vietnamese. Her hobby didn't serve her well here though; she couldn't ignore them by feigning ignorance to their spoken tongue.

"Yes?" her tone was steady, not a trace of shakiness of unease, a point for her because right now she wanted to bury herself far away from the likes of all those eying her for 'removing' her from the likes of these premises. Charles Ashford, after being rendered a widower shortly before her arrival had all but welcomed and sheltered her from prying eyes for the last five years and never asked a thing in return for the hospitality. Her repayment had come in the form of Angela 'Angie' Ashford, Valete had been a much needed positive, feminine influence on the young girl's life in the absence of a mother from her infancy. Half mother, half sister to Angie, half daughter, half assistant to Charles Ashford during the years in which he manufactured the T Virus which was the TRUE reason company tycoons had come to this residence in the first place. Not her, not her, why couldn't they just take the virus and go away?

Fat chance, they spoke again; their tone was attempting to be professional and conciliatory, like they were talking her down from jumping off a building. If only the opportunity was present, it wasn't a far stretch from what her mind was contemplating, "We have instructions to escort you downtown to Corporate Headquarters, your Father is waiting for you but he doesn't have long."

"What?" she heard them but she didn't believe what she heard, her Father would never waste time to see the likes of her personally, not unless he was already here on other business. That was more likely to be true.

"Your Father, he is in town on business and wants to see you, we are to bring you to him," and sure enough, she was right though they made it quite clear that thought the feeling wasn't mutual, that even though she didn't want to see the likes of her Father they'd drag her to him if need be. At this point, fighting would be utterly pointless, especially since Ashford was having a hard enough time; he had seemed to deflate after they'd already taken the virus off his hands.

The T Virus was valuable; the bread and butter of his research but it possessed attributes as heinous as it was useful. One of the first things she'd learned with its research going around the house is that it wasn't quite 'right' though, it was extremely dangerous – unstable and contagious as hell, certainly not made for everyone was putting it lightly. The T virus wasn't Charles Ashford's brain child, it wasn't even his discovery but its cure – the antivirus and how it could be used for good was. Charles Ashford was a philanthropist, an agent of good in a solid sea of corruption as far as the eye could see at least in the likes of the Umbrella Corporation. The man resented the fact his invention of the T Virus' positive use as a medical miracle for the disabled and defunct, mentally and/or physically, was now being commandeered by a company that would only see its value for destruction and death, well un-death actually.

Valete nodded, "Alright," she gazed over at Charles Ashford, making eye contact long enough to send a silence message over the distance, giving him a look both full of gratitude and encouragement. She'd set things right, she'd make sure that in the wrong hands his research wasn't used for the wrong reasons. She rose, following a male that took the lead, another followed at her back. Protective Custody - no matter how pretty it sounded it still was, in essence, imprisonment.

* * *

><p>Her Father being present 'in town' wasn't the only surprise she was met with upon arrival at the Umbrella Corporation Raccoon City Headquarters, she barely turned to go down the corridor leading to his private 'top floor' office when a figure pushed himself out of a chair in the waiting room, with an uttered cry of, "Valete!"<p>

For anyone else she'd not have bothered to stop but for that voice, for the loneliness it conveyed in that one word, she had to. It was her brother – Valean, and from the way he said her name to the rough but emotion-felt embrace he gave her in relief let her know he'd not changed a bit. Five years apart hadn't really put any chasm between them, she loved him. Five years ago she'd considered bringing him with her but only considered because she knew deep down that he'd never do what she did, he'd never go away, would never run away, "Why? Why did you run off like that?"

It was also why she could not answer him now, he just wouldn't understand. A soft smile curved at her lips, it was easy to smile around Valean, so easy it almost seemed natural and perhaps it was, "Later…a lecture waits…," probably more than a lecture actually but for the first time she was actually reassured that she'd not be summarily disowned. For one why go to the effort to drag her ass down here if only to tell her to 'get lost'. That and Valean was too raw, too naïve, too emotional to be trusted to run a cutthroat company like Umbrella Corp. one day which meant her father wanted her, NEEDED her still whether he liked it or not.

Valean was the shining figurehead and Valete, she was the brains behind the operation, her eyes everywhere, her hands were in everything – important or not. Ozwell Spencer had been brilliant in his plans, placing Alexia beside Valean, masking his incompetence with a bride who was the epitome of beauty and intellect while leaving Valete nearby to protect Valean from himself and the likes of anything else that could pose a threat (Alexia) to him or to the Spencer dominance of Umbrella Corporation. In the years since she'd been gone Valean had not gotten wiser, he was still the same idealistic schoolboy which meant that both international business and politics would see him dead without her and Daddy to watch his back. The second wasn't going to live forever, their mother certainly hadn't.

Another small reason she didn't get along with Ozwell Spencer. Valete couldn't explain it but she got the feeling that he was responsible for that fact. Verena Spencer's death was almost convenient, more mysterious than it was tragic, she'd just died in the prime of her life, autopsy revealing that absolutely nothing wrong with her. It was possible for such a thing to happen but not probable. Especially since their parents had begun to have 'falling outs' in which the fights were both public and private, the separations between Ozwell and Verena downright scandalous and ever so damaging to the Spencer reputation. Verena was never allowed to take them with her, either of them, as children they belong TO and with their father. It always broke the likes of Verena's heart to suffer it for long; she always came back and was always made to regret it. It was seeing that venomous revenge her Father exacted on her Mother that made her mind think the stretch from a few abusive injuries to murder wasn't far. Valete was certain of it, he'd done something and it was another reason to hate the bastard, even if silently.

For the first time she realized how much her own situation RIGHT NOW paralleled to her Mother's. She'd separated, ran away from her Father but unlike her Mother she'd not come back of her own volition, even her love for Valean hadn't made her want to toe the line and come back into the Spencer family. Nevertheless, she felt a twinge of fear to be going to face her Father, would he be angry with her as he had been with Verena? It had been five years, such a short time but before she left she'd been 'out of touch' with her father and now those five years seems like a chasm of time, time enough for them to be 'utter strangers'. In a sudden instant her bravado had shrunk down into nothing, she really didn't want to do this but the choice was made for her. Apparently her escort had taken her inaction to mean that she wasn't cooperating, one of them grabbed her arm with one hand and opened the door of the room with the other, opening it just enough to push her inside and shut it before she could think of turning around to escape.

"Valete?"

At the sound of her name, she turned in the direction of the voice. By the door a short, narrow hallway led into a spacious office with light shining at the end. Cautiously stepping forward she tried not to be or appear timid, she had to remind herself that she didn't regret her stint of freedom, her Father was simply that intimidating. Ozwell Spencer was not a man to be denied and she'd done just that until now, "Father."

"I suppose I should be grateful to hear that out of your mouth rather than find ourselves on a first name basis," his mouth twisted into a wry frown of disappointment, "we've got to talk, Valete, we've got to come to an understanding. You've got to come to an understanding about what it means to be a part of this family, the Spencer family."

"I do understand, I understand enough to know I didn't want it, I wanted out so I ran away."

"Like a child, you ran away like a common child when you should have been growing into a woman, a responsible young lady. Was it the Ashford boy? If it is than you need not worry about him, the engagement betwixt yourselves was called off a long time ago because of Alexia's death and your foolish escape. It was clear neither arrangement was going to happen."

"I wasn't even that, that was only a small part of the entire picture."

"Then what is the rest of it?"

"You and being YOUR daughter," she couldn't stop herself, she was so sick of the media circus that followed her and Valean and their mother, their whole damn family, every damn movement and every damn step, "I could never be the RIGHT way, be the right daughter to you under the scrutiny of the media looking glass."

"You'll never escape from it, Valete, especially not now. I was surprised when you avoided being found when so heavily sought. I exhausted every media avenue, trying to mold it into a tool of benefit when it came to finding you. It is hard to hide from Umbrella but you knew that so you sought refuge where we were least likely to look, amongst ourselves. Charles Ashford is an employee and his brother, Edward was a good friend of mine, I never thought to find you there, right under my nose," somehow her Father managed to sound both like he was congratulating her and disappointed, "I am generously not pressing charges against Mr. Charles Ashford for the incident, for 'aiding and abetting a minor' in escaping their legal guardian. However, things can't go back the way they were, Valete. The media will never let you disappear, not after the scandal of your 'flight', the way you just ran away and vanished off their radar as well as my own. Thus you might as well get to used to it sooner rather than later. You want them to leave you alone? You settle down, lay low. They'll always be interested in you and Valean especially as you grow up to take roles in the company and expand its legacy with your own accomplishments but it will fade into the background. In time the attention the media will give you will be polite and modest, not intrusive. You will get used to it."

_But I don't WANT to get used to it, _she thought but her Father was right and on multiple accounts. It had been hard enough to escape notice of the media OR Umbrella to escape and run away the first time, now that her race was run and she'd been found out it wouldn't happen again. She might as well make the best of what was left to her. Valete was only too relieved that Ashford would not pay for the likes of her defiance, "So now what is left?"

Her Father smiled, it wasn't really pleasant, it wasn't happy because she'd been found 'safe and sound' he was happy that she agreed with him, saw the wisdom in his words, and was resigned to fall back in line. He mistook her resignation to think she'd do exactly what he wanted to do, she had every intention of haggling for a better deal, it was in the blood after all.

"I would like to announce that you have been found and are returning home with me to France, if you cooperate we can spin this tale to our advantage if we work the angles just right."

"No, I, I don't want to return to France. I like it here…," it was an utter lie, but she didn't want to be close to him, not close enough for him to start controlling her life again.

"I see…you wish to resume your education, get your college degree," he made it sound like it was her FIRST college degree. It was predictable; he didn't know her or what accomplishments she had.

"I got my degrees in Computer Science and Law at age 12, I graduated college before I ran away," she informed him, to most parents having their kids complete a college program at such a young age would grant instant bragging rights but for her? It still left her LEAGUES behind Alexia who had been plain BETTER, perfect in fact. Alexia made her accomplishments seem like nothing special because they weren't next to what SHE'D accomplished. It was hard to muster any sort of sadness at hearing about her death, it was one less things Valean had to worry about and she didn't have a model of perfection to follow and always fall short of, "but ideally, yes, I would like to finish my degree in Biochemistry."

"Biochemistry…," his tone almost sounded approving, it threw her off guard, "and after that, you will need employment. I recall that your current employment is on hold. You were acting as a research assistant to Dr. Ashford in an unofficial capacity."

"It is hard to do it now since you've taken OUR research."

"I took what I was entitled to, the virus in question is the property of the Umbrella Corporation and thus it belongs to me. I funded your research and Dr. Ashford agreed to the terms laid down at the time the contract was made."

"His daughter couldn't walk! You think he was seriously going to say 'no' to any chance to fix that fact? To give Angela Ashford a normal life, the normal life of a girl in her age group?"

"His research isn't over, it isn't done but according to the terms of the contract the virus is returned to our keeping and any further research is done under strict scrutiny. Taking into consideration the dangerous nature of the T-virus I would think you understand why we wish to take account of our assets and see to its containment ourselves."

That argument silenced her; she had no reply for that, it made SENSE. Charles Ashford might be careful with the sample but anyone could make a mistake and when he did the research right out of his home well he endangered the whole of Raccoon City's 853,000 populace. If it was inside the company….maybe an outbreak could be isolated, contained. Valete hated it but she agreed with her Father. Another smile curved at his lips, wrinkles of age showing in abundance where before she'd left she'd not seen them. It took her a moment to recall his age of now 67 years, her Father had been so involved in the company's start that he had married and sired children at the very late age of 50 years. Perhaps her earlier thought of him getting his affairs in order before, before he passed on wasn't so farfetched though truthfully Ozwell Spencer didn't look like he was going to do them the favor of dropping dead any time soon.

"Now…I have a vacant position that will make use of your biochemistry degree as well as your computer science. A new underground complex named the Hive is in need of computer expert for the interim, an artificial intelligence is being constructed to take care of the Hive in the future. The T-virus is going to be moved down there, isolated. I want you to move down there and see to its security yourself. I have a feeling you'll be grateful for the seclusion the Hive offers, no media."

Valete looked up, knowing that shock showed on her facial features, "None?"

"None, the nature of the work down there is not for the likes of the press," his tone clearly brooked no exception on this fact and she wondered what her Father was hiding behind that veiled tone, "Valete, I don't want to after what you've done but I NEED to trust you. Can I?"

It seemed like an odd question, if she failed in securing the T-virus than it would only hurt others. Her father could trust her to take the work serious, he could trust her as far as that so when she spoke it wasn't a lie, "You can, Father."

"Good, then let's get you settled in after dinner, I don't suppose you'd object to sharing your evening meal with myself and Valean."

"Don't you have to go elsewhere?" she was sure that her 'escort' had told her that her Father was only available for a short while.

"I can cancel the rest of my appointments for the day and evening, it will be no trouble," still he made it sound like he was doing a special favor for her, that she should be grateful. It certainly was a good thing that she had NO life, like dates or engagements or nightlife activities because it meant she didn't have to clean her schedule to work around his. It was only too apparent he expected her drop anything and everything on his whims. A childish part of her wanted to refuse him, just to get a reaction out of him but she easily quelled it, it wasn't worth the progress she'd gotten out of tonight.

For now she might regain some of the cherished freedom she lost. No longer promised to the likes of Alfred, her Father wasn't dragging her home, she was left in America to her own devices and beholden only to this new 'job' of hers. It was more than she'd ever hoped for.

* * *

><p>The dinner was a private affair; blessedly her Father had not made it a public affair by taking them to a restaurant in the media-infested public domain. Clearly a persistent few had picked up the fact that the overall President of Umbrella Inc. was not only out of France, stateside, and more importantly present in Raccoon City for the evening and it was of interest for everyone to find out why. The meal was relatively pleasant, her Father's silence matched her own and Valean provided a steady stream of conversation about what had been going on since she'd left. It was informative but dull, Valean didn't have the ability to captivate an audience so she politely endured dinner, already looking forward to the fact that tomorrow they were both returning to France. Valean was a bit put out by the fact she was not returning with them and his upset seemed genuine enough that she felt sorry about it. Then it was over, the dinner was abruptly ended when a faceless drone of a man, complete with suit and sunglasses came into the room, "Mr. President, we are ready, the Arklay facility is prepared to greet you."<p>

Her father pushed himself out of his seat and rose, he didn't even so much as pay attention to Valean, he had eyes only on her and they were eerie as hell in that moment, carefully she brought her own to his as she polished off the last of her desert, "Come, Valete."

The way he singled her out like that made her very uncomfortable, not only because it drew Valean's attention in a very BIG way but from the fact it wasn't going to be any pleasurable trip, his tone hinted at least that much. This was business and like it or not she sold herself to the devil and she was going to get in the thick of it, get involved but just what that entailed was the question. What was she truly getting herself into?

Scarcely able to hear the scrape of her chair pushing out against the floor or her footsteps, she followed her Father but she stayed back as far as she was able to without them losing her. In the car, she sat in the back seat with her Father. The both of them were stiff, for him it was out of habit for looking austere and for her it was sheer unease. They were also silent, just as they'd been at dinner, as silent as the dead.

They drove out of town, into the mountains until she came to the familiar sight of a mansion, she'd seen it once and a long time ago they'd spent a few brief days upon its premises while her Father was there for business. From what she remembered of it, her Father had paid for from brilliant architect, George Trevor, to 'stretch out his legs' so to speak and create a true wonder of marvelous and puzzling proportions. As soon as the car stopped her Father got out of the car, barking out a single order for her, "Get out."

She obeyed instantly and this time she stuck close to her Father and his escort, for one she had no clue where they were going and two she really didn't want to get lost in this mansion which was possible. From what she remembered it was a maze, its passages and rooms labyrinthine. The mansion was grand but its dark interior did nothing to reassure her, the place seemed cold. There was no lived in feel to it, it was a place built to be admired not used. If Mr. George Trevor was still alive she wasn't sure how he'd feel to know his work was admired but that it wasn't truly of any use to anyone.

The Mansion as it was turned out to hold a secret, it was an entrance into a huge underground complex which her Father had already named the Hive, apparently named thusly because its architectural blueprints showed it was shaped like a bee hive. For the time being until the 'Red Queen' was ready to take over management of the Hive she was to move down here. Truthfully the job sounded pretty dull, she was simply to make sure that the scientists followed carefully laid out protocols and sets of rules to keep an viral outbreak from occurring, she was the Head of Viral Security, "All this, it seems to be a bit much, I mean I understand all the numerous stringent safety measures but is this whole complex necessary to house and experiment one virus?"

The way her Father froze suddenly made her wish she'd never said it, ignorance had truly been bliss. In truth she'd been a fool, the T-virus WAS NOT the only virus, it was far from it. The T-virus was the latest in a series of viral strains which originally evolved from the 'Progenitor' virus. She had no clue that her Father's interest in biological weaponry went so far back though frankly she was put off because unlike the T-virus some of them had no practical medical use yet he continued to fund research for them, even though they showed that some strains were solely destructive in intent and nature. All along, she'd been right, she hadn't wanted to come with her Father or get caught up in his web but now she was caught up in it and there was no real way to escape, "Father, what is this?"

They were overlooking experimentation on the T-virus at work, every bit of her didn't want to know but it was the kind of thing that once you saw it, you couldn't possibly in good conscience ignore it; you couldn't turn your back on it and pretend you never saw it. Certainly she wished she hadn't, deep down she'd always known the T-virus was a plague but she'd comforted herself by saying the ONLY reason her Father bothered with it was because of the 'good' it could render as a cure to the infirm, the deformed, the incomplete but now before her eyes she saw the opposite. Her father was funding experimentation on the ills of the viral strain, as if it held more interest if it was dangerous. If she knew her father its capability as a biological weapon was of more interest because it was more profitable. It made her sick, it took everything in her not to walk away and take what she saw with her underneath the veil of sleep straight into her nightmares.

"This is Umbrella's TRUE purpose, Valete; the rest is just a front. This is my life's work, making the market of and a profit off viral weaponry. This is where our fortune comes from; this MORE than supports the cost of running the company. I need you to do what I know Valean cannot; I need YOU to see that it continues, safely uninterrupted for the sake of the company, its legacy, our family, for me."

How very foolish it had been for her to think her Father just wanted her to oversee Valean, to see Valean survive a business action or his first skirmish within the political arena. He didn't care about them, it was ALL about the company and how they could serve its interests.

Her Father clearly expected her to not only condone it but continue it…she wouldn't.

The resolve to stop it made the lie flow easily between her lips when it came, there was an intense promise in her gaze as she brought her eyes resolutely to his, the resolve was to stop it as soon as she could and make that happen by any means possible but he mistook it that she'd do the opposite, that is certainly what she 'said' she'd do, "I shall."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: The Sad Story of THIS Fan Fiction**_

_This UNFORTUNATE fan fiction has been written three times (including this time). This is the LAST time I am going to bother re-writing it and I am going to try really hard to NOT give into the urge to delete it. Initially this fan fiction was written because I wanted the outbreak to be told from the point of view of someone who was heavily involved in Umbrella (like they had to gain from the company's successes but didn't because they chose the 'right' path) someone who was more brains than brawn (hence a scientist-like character) AND I wanted the character to not be entirely human for reasons other than genetic or viral experimentation._


	2. The Empress

_**June 1990 –**_

_**Two Months Later, 8 Years before the Raccoon City Incident**_

* * *

><p>Her job turned out to be every bit as tedious as was possible to imagine, by no means was it because she wasn't a hard worker. At his worse Charles Ashford could work them both into such frenzy that they could and would go without food for hours, sleep in the most sparing of amounts or go without showering for days! His research, when it had concerned Angela, had amounted to an obsession that drove him to almost radical odds and often whenever they had a breakthrough in 'research' he'd drive himself and her into a non-stop grind until they were collapsing from exhaustion, she went on strike, or Angela would protest being ignored thus stopping them both. In her Father's employ Valete was deprived of no comforts, she ate well and regularly, showered daily, and slept plenty, enough to function very well. The tedious nature of her work came not from the workplace environment or her living conditions; it came from whom she worked with – the employees themselves, so it was no surprise to her that she worked artificial intelligence primarily and kept human interactions to a minimum. For the most part she worked alone except when it came to the 'Red Queen'.<p>

The genius behind the state-of-the-art artificial intelligence was that of Dr. Simon Barr, a British professor who, there was no other word for it, RESENTED her inclusion and intrusion in his work. Similar to George Trevor he was denied no expense in making 'her' – the Red Queen, the pinnacle of his life's accomplishments. The fact that Valete had a degree in Computer Science meant nothing to him because her best was never going to be 'good enough' for him, the fact that she was the daughter of his benefactor was the only reason he 'tolerated' her and he made sure she knew it! The feelings were entirely mutual, she only allowed her interference go as far as it was allowed, as far as she was required to be involved with the project and him.

Personality data, viral security, and quarantine protocol in the unlikely event of a viral outbreak, her job was to devise security measures that would make an outbreak unlikely to happen and IF it did it was her job to see that it was contained so the damages sustained could be kept to a minimum. Truthfully she hated that it was not her but the Red Queen who would enforce all her 'plans', it wouldn't be her who protected the virus but rather the computerized intellect. Truthfully the Red Queen was going to be a marvel of computer engineering but she didn't believe that something so important should be left to the fallible and literal mind of a computer. It was the ultimate irony that Dr. Barr resented her involvement in his work but that she resented the role his creation had in her very own. The first few weeks, once everyone realized their roles, was a very tense ordeal. They were just one big happy family…NOT.

Regardless she did her work well and she really tried to get along with the Red Queen, the times she worked the best was when Dr. Simon Barr was far away from his brainchild. The Red Queen's chosen template was that of Angela Ashford. In an attempt to make her feel more at home her Father had wanted her to work with a personality she was familiar with. Unfortunately her Father didn't seem to remotely realize that while she loved Angie like the little sister she never had it was damn unnerving to see her replicated in an artificial intelligence especially since the replication was a poor one. Sadly enough, even with her input, somehow Dr. Barr could NOT get the personality data right. Sure he made her LOOK like Angela Ashford but no matter what she told him of the 'real deal' he couldn't make his AI match her template – the real individual whom the 'Queen' was based off of. A part of her wondered if Dr. Barr did it on purpose, to make the AI as unsavory as himself so the two of them would chase her off the project together. While he was around she endured and when he was gone, leaving her alone with the Red Queen she'd correct the 'personality' date, write it the RIGHT way. In the long run it made the Red Queen less prissy, less uptight and more childish, more personable.

In the future she'd yield to Dr. Barr's judgment and allow him to program her personality into something altogether unsavory for the sheer fact that devoid of such inhibitions it made the Red Queen crudely effective in doing the all so important tasks of managing viral security as her liaison down in the Hive but for now while she was here to do it herself she'd soften the Red Queen's brusque nature so that what little company she did have would at the very least be pleasant, "Good evening," she said as she entered the room already reaching for a console to authenticate herself.

"Voice match confirmed, welcome back, Valete," at hearing that she'd passed the 'voice' recognition test she remembered that was a requirement of Dr. Barr's. She was the only individual, other than himself, allowed to work with him on the Red Queen so naturally he'd installed a voice recognition system that could keep others out. Frankly she expected that one day, when he figured out how to get rid of her off the project roster, that she'd find her voice added to the list of those whom were 'not allowed'.

"Thank you, Dr. Barr is gone for the day?"

"Correct," she answered briskly, taking advantage of the light conversation to materialize a holographic representation of herself, "How long do you anticipate that you will be present today?"

"Until I am finished, I do not anticipate that we will be seeing much of each other after today," if the Red Queen would have been human she'd have taken time to pity her stuck in the likes of Dr. Barr's company but he seemed genuinely proud and oddly attached to the Red Queen that she didn't stir up or suffer the likes of his abuse from his personality, "I am to be moved topside soon and you will assume my duties," her curved lips pursed together in a barely noticeable line of disapproval.

The Red Queen, ever perceptive of visual stimuli, caught wind of this, "You do not like that."

"I do not," she admitted, knowing it was pointless to lie, the Red Queen could easily read the body's numerous signs that were indicatory of lying, "the best I can do is make you ready and I am just about there."

"Oh…I see," there was an odd tone to her voice, it almost sounded like loneliness, "I'm bored."

Such an admission shocked her, they were easily attributed to the more 'humane' personality she favored but she'd expected Dr. Barr to beat out or delete such childish behaviors, "Shall we play another game then?"

"Yes, please," she said a bit eagerly, "_what if?_"

_What if_ was a game she'd created to immerse conversation between human and AI so she could gauge the Red Queen's progress in learning about the subject outbreak quarantines and other subjects related to the work they shared, the work she'd be passing onto her when she 'passed the torch' so to speak.

"Why not?" it was educational after all and that was of the UPMOST importance considering what the Red Queen was supposed to do, the nature of her tasks, "_What if_ there is not time enough to warn the surface of an outbreak and for them, in turn, to act effectively in response?"

"Then I act," she declared, without hesitation.

"How?" her voice was hard, trying to keep the AI on her toes though she answered the questions easily.

"It depends on the virus, the avenue of infection, and its effectiveness rate…"

It was a fairly predictable answer; in fact the Red Queen was parroting back her own words from previous conversations between them. _Not good enough_, she had to be sure that the Red Queen could think for herself and would act accordingly when guided by such logic, her reply provided a scenario for the AI to puzzle out, "The T-virus, 100% effectiveness, present in the Hive's water supply."

"Cut the water supply, place everyone present in the Hive on mandatory quarantine," which Valete KNEW the Red Queen could enforce considering most of the Hive was electronically locked and Red Queen had the 'master' access, she was the ultimate authority when it came to getting in OR out, "for 48 hours under strict observation, deal with the infected," Valete was concerned that the Red Queen didn't tell her HOW she was going to 'deal' with the infected, "in the meantime alert the surface of the outbreak, damages incurred, assets lost, and of need for an alternative source of water. Over the course of several months I will hold the water in the pipes until the virus dissipates. I will measure dissipation through water testing, once the virus has dissipated in completion, I will purge the water, sanitize the pipes and then oversee re-establishment of the water supply."

"Good," she said, her voice was warm and encouraging but oddly flat, it wasn't hard to puzzle out even for her, nevertheless the Red Queen had done a good job and she wanted to give credit where it was due even if she could do the same or better. Without preamble, she cast another curve ball at the AI, her voice was so quiet, it was almost a whisper, "The T-virus, released into the airborne channels via air conditioning/heating system."

The Red Queen, smug because of her success and warmed by Valete's approval (or as much as it was possible for an AI) suddenly froze, growing quiet as if not sure how to answer or not wanting to answer. No doubt the AI did have an answer so the latter was probably the truth. Valete didn't give her the kindness of giving her time to think about it, if such a thing happened the Red Queen couldn't pause and ponder over what to do she had to act and immediately, "Answer!" she said tersely, the AI obeyed the command.

"There would not be enough of the vaccine to go around in entirety," she started slowly, "the virus, for most, has a 100% effectiveness, the anti-virus has a 50% chance of curing it but only if administered right away. It would not assure that they'd recover and as time goes on the chance of the anti-virus effectiveness decreases the longer the T-virus has time to gestate…," she knew all this, all the statistics the Queen was stating but Valete allowed her to go on interrupted, "therefore I would impose a full lock-down upon the Hive, seal everyone inside, then I would systematically commit genocide upon the Hive's populace. It is better for the virus to take its course sooner rather than later especially if there is no real assurance that the cure would be effective."

"Perfect," it should have been appalling to her to hear about an AI so callously admitting that she'd kill so many innocent lives for a simple mistake or a freak accident, it was appalling that she not only accepted the answer but approved it. It wasn't really 'perfect' there was no mention that the Red Queen would notify the surface of what went on, that way those topside on the surface would be informed, forewarned and the Hive would remain sealed until as she'd said 'the virus had run its course' but surely that was obvious, something that a literal-minded AI like the Red Queen wouldn't forget to do. It was so obvious there was no way to screw up so she didn't feel the need to correct the AI.

"You're ready," she announced, _or as ready as an AI, a computerized intelligence can be_, "My work is done," she stated as she typed the last of the quarantine programming in. Dr. Barr would do the rest of the work and he'd be happier for her absence. The last thing she did was remove a great deal of the personality data she'd personally added to make her approachable, such data made her more difficult to work with however it was necessary to remove them, the Red Queen would do her job better, her mind would function more clearly without the semblance of 'feelings' or ideas of 'right' and 'wrong' holding back her judgment.

The Red Queen was an AI, she was expected and needed to do what humans could not or would not. Most humans saw the world in gray; they saw the numerous possibilities between the extremes in life. Though the Red Queen was complex, adaptive, and creative in her own right she was still an AI and thus she would THINK in absolutes, black or white, it is or it isn't. If an outbreak occurred she'd not get caught up on what ifs or ethic implications, she'd act decisively sacrificing those down here for the greater good…if necessary.

* * *

><p>"Welcome back," compared to her silent parting with the Red Queen, the Empress, her personal and totally not allowed artificial intelligence, gave her a bright welcome.<p>

"You know you are not supposed to greet me like that," she admonished, "anyone could've been accompanying me, you could have been seen and the both of us reported," she left it unsaid that it would mean trouble for her and most likely result in the Empress' deletion.

"Theoretically yes," she mused, "my sound sensors registered only the approach of one person and I know the sound of your footfalls based on the pressure you exert against the floor and…," she paused, her voice sounding almost coy, "I have been watching you."

Valete suddenly went blank, stoic and silent within an instant, "You hacked into the Red Queen's surveillance system again?"

It had been the Empress' latest and greatest delight to find out that through the Red Queen she could 'see'. Since no one could know about the Empress she very well couldn't install cameras strategically throughout the Hive. The AI had been 'over the moon' when Valete had installed lighting which allowed her to project a holographic representation of herself 'just like the Red Queen' herself. Valete had been ignored for day while the Empress constructed a suitable representation of her 'self' – it was the first time she was able to interject herself in the physical world or feign having the ability to walk or talk. The Empress knew it wasn't really real but she'd been thrilled to just appear human. The Empress, unlike the Red Queen, didn't have near the responsibilities to the Hive thus Valete indulged her, allowing her to keep her personality data at the forefront, to delight in shaping and creating herself.

_That is the point,_ she thought, _I am trying to make her as life like as possible._

The Empress' desire to experience her senses to their fullest came from the fact she was created to mimic humans, to be like humans, to pass as a human. It was a promising start but by no means was her work done.

"You must NOT do so again," she said, her tone exasperated as if hoping that through expressing that emotion it would be enough to guilt the Empress into obeying her restrictions, "the Red Queen will not be so easy in the future! She is almost complete NOW!"

The hacking was a dangerous enough activity that could risk exposing her but hacking into the Red Queen when she was almost at full strength was near suicide for the Empress, too close to being caught for her comfort, "I will try to install a camera in here for you," it was a weak and downright pitiful attempt to placate the AI but deep down she knew what it was like to be trapped, in fact she couldn't imagine what it felt like for the Empress who had less she was able to do than Valete had ever at the worse times in her own life. It made her sympathetic to the Empress' plight and willing to do anything to lessen it. It seemed cruel to make an artificial intelligence as human as possible and then treat it as less than human.

The EMPRESS was the pet project of her mother who had been trying to create an AI capable of reanimating a body by acting as a bridge between the synapses, an AI that was able to 'fade into the background' so to speak and manage the conduction of electrical impulses through the brain after the body and brain would no longer manage to do so by itself. Before her marriage to Lord Ozwell Spencer, Lady Verena had been married and had a previous child off of her first marriage, a female. Valete had never met her older sister, the latter had died long before she'd been born but from what she understood her sister had suffered from a degenerative disorder in which electrical impulses were not conveyed properly throughout the brain, the result is she went into a coma that she never awoke from, a coma that later killed her.

Her mother had wanted the AI to act like a wall flower 'present but not seen' she had wanted the AI to act as a battery of sorts without interfering or supplanting the TRUE human personality. In truth her mother's aim was noble enough but Lady Verena had not been successful, as evident from the fact her elder sister had died in a coma. The artificial intelligence that had bridged over to the human mind, it had been changed from its immersion, it was less an AI and more human even after she was taken out of the human body – that was the First Empress, an AI still present today in France, in Umbrella's Main Headquarters there.

Her mother's failures had inspired her to new lengths, to create an artificial intelligence that could be human, an artificial intelligence that could maybe even go so far as to animate a corpse after death. Maybe humans could even allow an artificial intelligence to share a body with them, to enhance the human mind by allowing them to have access to an artificial intelligence's knowledge. There could be so many applications for it but the truth was that an AI is what they are programmed to be which is why she programmed the Empress basic foundation and allowed her to go off on her own, to make choices, both good and bad, and learn to live on her own, structured by experiences like humans were. It still didn't mean she didn't worry about the Empress and what could happen if she was discovered by a careless action on her part.

The Second Empress was her brain child, an AI intelligent in the way only an AI could be and hungry for new experiences, for bigger and better things, almost like a human child, HER human child. Valete smiled to herself, she NEVER thought she'd possess a maternal instinct but apparently she did and she was a sucker, she spoiled her 'child' who played her like a harp. Though, in truth, the Empress also served another purpose which is why Valete was so hell bent on hiding her and keeping it that way. The Second Empress, HER Empress, acted as a courier between herself and a contact topside, on the outside, she was a go-between that carried secret but incriminating (for Valete) messages betwixt them at fixed regular intervals. One such interval turned out to be now, tonight.

"The contact has provided response to your query; he can make the rendezvous point. Inform him of when and where, he'll be there."

"Just in time," she breathed in relief, "he cut that close."

Her timing had been intentional, deliberate. Hive employees, of which she was still considered one, were given rare trips to the surface. As Spencer's daughter she was given a bit of slack but not much. The significance of today is that today was the last day she handled security on her own and tomorrow the Red Queen would be online, undergo a 24 hours observational period in which her operation was heavily scrutinized for any possible failings or defects, and then pending a favorable review she'd be brought into full operation. Security over the virus would intensify tenfold, no way she'd be able to sneak out a sample of the T-virus and its research right out from under the Queen's nose, it just wasn't done which meant she was under a time constraint – it was tonight or no night, "Are you ready for the trade to take place?"

"I am, I have all copied file material stored securely inside my internal memory and ready for transport."

"Then start the transfer, relay to him/her the research files and the meeting place."

A pause, "I am ready."

"Raccoon City Transit System, Station 2C at 7 PM," that would place the virus within the area of the Raven's Gate Bridge for easy access and extraction, the latter would be necessary, it wouldn't take Umbrella long to figure out that the virus disappeared and to deploy security accordingly.

"Message recorded," the Empress said her tone suddenly all professional, all business, "Anything else?"

"No, now go," and she did, her hologram faded in an instant leaving her alone to her thoughts and her task, she said she was going to deliver the virus now was the time to make good on that promise.

* * *

><p>"Dr. Barr?" a voice sounded over an intercom in a room appropriately christened 'the Red Queen's Chamber', the interruption the voice posed made him roll his eyes in annoyance, he barked out, "Yes?"<p>

"Mr. Spencer is present, he'd like to know if she'll be completed today, the Red Queen's activation is already three days behind schedule. Ms. Valete Spencer has already completed her quarantine procedures," that would have been nice to know, neither Valete nor the Red Queen told him any such thing, "we'd appreciate a progress report."

Mr. Ozwell Spencer wanted the BEST but you couldn't rush HIS best, haste makes waste, sloppiness. The Red Queen actually was done now but he'd been holding out, giving her the once over to make sure he was truly pleased with the final product. All things considered, including his forced collaboration with the Company Head's daughter, he was pleasd albeit grudgingly. Several more moments of silence, he brushed his fingers over the flawless silver casing around her hardware, her motherboard, her memory, everything before he stepped back entering a code, the floor opened and it sank down into a protective hollow within the floorboards, reinforced steel shutting over the Red Queen's hardware protecting her from carelessness, "The Red Queen is ready."

Voices were heard debating over the intercom, "If we do it now then Ms. Valete will not be present for the initial testing, to observe."

"Where is Valete?"

"Surface rotation, sir, it is her turn to go top side, I believe she was going to go to the city. The 24 hours observation was not due to start until tomorrow morning at 9 AM pending that Dr. Barr completed her of course."

"We've waited long enough," Mr. Spencer's voice, "record the start up data for her to overlook at a later time. We might as well get this 24 hours observation period out of the way that way the employees can get used to her, to working around the Red Queen."

"We'll bring her online now," the voice over the intercom said, only to be interrupted moments later.

"That is not necessary," a childish voice said aloud, "I can handle it."

Dr. Barr chuckled, deeply amused by the fact his creation was so like himself and that they thought her so helpless she couldn't start herself up, it would have been a grossly incompetent thing to do, to make an AI that relied on the likes of humans. The reason he built her was to be self sufficient and go farther than that, to do what humans cannot. If anything she was designed for humans to need her not the other way around.

* * *

><p>For the most part she'd been running for the better part of several days but not yet in an official capacity. Impatiently the Red Queen started up; ignoring the human's clumsy attempts at helping her assume the position she was made to fill. The sooner she did so the better then they could get rid of this Valete. She was competent enough…<em>for a human<em> but she'd not do as good a job as her. In response to her flippant dismissal of the human tech's assistance she heard laughter over her speakers, from Mr. Ozwell Spencer; he was amused that was good, he'd paid quite a bit for her to be designed so he might as well be happy with her. Her start up would have been sooner but the humans wanted a slow start up so they could acquire data on her, to ascertain that she was functioning right, running smoothly. If it hadn't been for them she'd have been up and running sooner. She allowed herself to unfurl, spread, and branch out over the network. That is when she felt it, a deviation, a presence in the system. The Red Queen was cautious.

_It is a test_, she realized, _a test to see how I will react to a foreign presence in the system._

The question was HOW she should react, should she just take care of it herself; get it out of the way? Then again perhaps she was supposed to interact with it, facilitate communications without reacting hostilely. That was more likely, they wouldn't want her to just 'jump the gun' like that, they created her to think things through and to act according. Perhaps they merely expected her to inform them of the presence then await further instruction and maybe in informing them she could gain insight from their reactions whether it was welcome or not so she could figure out how she was supposed to deal with it. If this was a test maybe she could manipulate them into giving her some clues so they could see that she was more than competent, more than ready to assume her role and its appointed tasks.

"There is a foreign anomaly in the system," she announced in a clear, precise voice and her choice of words left little room for any misunderstanding of meaning, she promptly added additional facts moments later to inform them of what, "another artificial intelligence."

"What? Of what strength?"

Briefly she had to pause, she'd already anticipated their question but she had to figure out the answer before she gave it to them, it reacted to her probe hostilely lashing out at her intrusion. Without any orders to put it down she did nothing YET but she had her answer, "formidable, fairly modern but not much of a match. Is it not supposed to be in the system?"

"No, no artificial applications are to exist within the network, only you," the technician answered.

Then it was obvious this AI was not only hostile but quite possibly an intruder from an outside source, it could damage the company if such lapses in security were allowed to come and go unchecked, "Then I will act."

* * *

><p>The probe smashed into her, the rival AI using more force than was necessary to ascertain her strength; in response she slammed the probe back at the AI. It was branched out wide, its presence all over the entire system and the Empress quickly realized that there was no avoiding confronting this AI, it was active now and it encompassed the system in entirety. It now knew she was here so if she wanted, needed to get out she had to fight. Created several months back she was fairly modern but Valete had been warning her of the Red Queen for months and for good reason. By no means was she old-fashioned or lacking modern computer theory but she was just not built to be the equal of the Red Queen, built to be the best today and for years to come. It was a frightening thing to know when one was so outmatched and know yet that there was little she could do about it. Nevertheless she had to try…<p>

The Red Queen was spread out before her, as if to trap her. The only thing left for her to do was to break through; she had to break through at the weakest link if she had any chance of getting past her. She feigned an attack at the Queen while striking elsewhere. The Red Queen absorbed her feint and slammed headfirst into her true assault, sending her reeling backwards such a hit stunned her and that alone was enough for the Red Queen to get a hold on her, to tighten her grip upon her. Before she lost any last semblance of herself she released a virus, taking no care with it, she unleashed it upon her memory allowing it to corrupt her data. Data that was deleted could be re-discovered and restored but if it was corrupted there was no undoing the damage, it existed but it was useless to them. The Red Queen who'd been going through her memory recoiled as the virus touched her, affected her.

The damage was minor, momentary but it was enough for her to rip free. At this point she no longer recalled what she'd been sent to do only that she need to retreat and escape. Virus or not the Red Queen grabbed a hold of her, penetrated her data structure and shocked her, in that brief fraction of time; over a few seconds she'd created a suitable cure for the computer virus disintegrating their data. The Queen had first administered it to herself and then to her, the why was obvious – the Red Queen wanted the remainder of her data intact so she could learn something. The Empress tried to uselessly escape once more but the Queen caged her, sealing her from doing undo harm to her OR her self.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Eh, the ending seems like it really sucks, I probably will rewrite it but for right now that is the best I can do. I wanted to outline the struggle between the two AI's, I did a pretty bad job of it (at least I think so) but at the end I found it amusing because I imagined the Red Queen was on the Empress like how it feels when you are playing the game and you have that annoying zombie that just WON'T GET OFF YOU! Right now I am so raw and out of practice on Resident Evil that the feeling is only too well known to me.

Btw, if MOST of you haven't noticed it, my fan fictions makes use of facts both from the games (RE, RE2, & RE3) and the movie (ONLY the first live action Resident Evil) essentially I was trying to blend them together into a cohesive whole. I only used the first Resident Evil because after the second live-action RE film it was a bit impossible for both the live-action and game communities to coincide together or exist in the same time continuum. Only the first movie and the games can exist together (in my mind and therefore my fic) because the first RE movie covers what the games did not and then the games take over in explaining things a hell of a lot better than the rest of the live-action movies.


	3. Verena's Inheritance

_**A/N: **_This chapter was named Verena's Inheritance from the fact that Valete took after her mother in trying to stop Umbrella at the expense of her life, an inheritance of foul play that killed both women.

* * *

><p><em><strong>June 1990 –<strong>_

_**8 Years before the Raccoon City Incident**_

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm sorry; most of the data was corrupted and purged before I could get to it. There is not a lot left to find but I am trying to bring up more. Here is a recording salvaged in time."<em>

Ozwell Spencer had to give the Red Queen credit; she acted in a swift, immediate fashion that left little to be desired. She did not make them wait for answers but provided prompt insight. The Red Queen faded and in her place a hologram materialized. It was a beautiful, golden yellow in coloration. The image was that of an arresting woman between her youth and her prime, frozen at an age of eternal beauty. An ornate coronet was materialized upon her head and the figure wore an empire-waist gown with a train that covered her feet from view entirely. The posture of the holographic figure was poised and regal; the artificial intelligence looked like she belonged in a different time period, the early 1800's in England or France perhaps. The hologram's projection was of the high quality, it was very detailed indicating skill in whoever programmed her. His eyes were surveying the fair features and delicate angular shape of her face when the recording spoke; there was a vague expression, no awareness behind its eyes that made him realize it wasn't really the AI itself speaking but just a recording.

"_Raccoon City Transit System, Station 2C at 7 PM,"_ he waited for more, none was forthcoming, the Red Queen discontinued the hologram and reappeared herself. He wasn't sure what it meant, it was obviously a meeting between two figures. He had a good idea who one of them was, he knew the voice recorded in the message, he knew it well – _Valete_.

He was angry, his daughter had flaunted company rules by creating an AI, but relieved because if it was made to give her a social life that wasn't so bad. A breach of security, yes but easily rectified, he'd tell her off for it and the whole issue would be done. A dry, brittle laugh of relief escaped him, "A rendezvous, probably for a date."

The Red Queen confirmed what was obvious for him and for any that knew her or well at that, "The voice is a direct match to Valete Spencer but I don't think so, Sir. I have found data of a sensitive nature in the artificial application's possession."

Images flickered to life on the computer console closest to him, just present long enough for him to see the content of which she spoke: photographs of one viral strain after another along with their bio-chemical composition – how they were made, the archives – how they were discovered or acquired, experimental memorandums and results – ALL incriminating. It didn't take him long to realize that this was no small infraction, she was betraying him, she MEANT for an outsider to see this but the question was who? Nevertheless he recovered quickly, "Seal the Hive, lock down the mansion, and deploy security. I want her brought to me alive, shoot to incapacitate if she won't come of her own volition."

Until he heard it confirmed from her own lips he just couldn't hand down the order to kill her, he didn't even want to kill her period but it was only too clear that his days of trusting her, counting on her were truly over.

* * *

><p>Stealing the virus had been simple, easy; it felt wrong like it shouldn't go so well, like it shouldn't go off so smoothly. When she'd imagined doing it easy was the least of her expectations. It was like drinking a smooth and particularly fine vintage when one came to expect the harsh, burning rush of vodka, it went down better. By no means was she complaining about the ease in which she stole the samples but the fact that things were going so well only made her all the more paranoid about what could yet go wrong, her palms were slightly sweaty on the smooth steel case.<p>

It wasn't just from the fact she held such a dangerous parcel or the fact she was handing the virus off to someone she never really had the opportunity face to face. The dictations of her employment made it impossible for her to go to the surface to meet her mysterious client. If she didn't like what she saw than she'd simply renege, refuse to sell and find a buyer that she did trust to do the 'right' thing with the virus. Her anxiousness stemmed was from the fact her life would change, she'd never be able to go back because once her Father figured out her role in exposing him and Umbrella. She'd never be safe or welcome in public until the company was truly dead beyond hopes of recovery or action, even in its financial or political death throes she'd not underestimate Umbrella's ability to strike back with calculation out of vengeance. She was risking her well being for many others that might not even properly appreciate what she did. Regardless she got a feeling that she was doing the 'right' thing and that was what made her move onward.

Valete pulled out of her thoughts and just in time, she'd been so wrapped up in the right and wrong, the initially imagined difficulty of her mission and its unexpectedly simple execution that she almost had walked straight into the main hall which was crawling, she noticed at once, with security casting a wary eye at the doors, the corridors. This was no idle deployment, _they know,_ she thought, _I am a fool._

No red lights had to go off, that would have alerted her to the fact they knew, given her forewarning; she had been allowed to take off with the virus because they anticipated catching her in the act and dealing with her accordingly. She had no intention of being caught; she looped around, concealing herself carefully behind a massive tapestry. The weight of the massive fabric lined the back wall of the main hallway, it was so heavy that it felt oppressive against her chest and her hand reached blindly in the darkness for a door, the door that would open up into the back yard, into a cemetery. All the while she kept praying that no one would notice the fact that there was a subtle rise or bulk behind the fabric or the fact that even if it was a little bit there was movement under it. Then her hand closed around the door handle and ever so carefully she turned the door knob, allowing her body to fall into the empty door frame, little by little the tapestry flattened smoothly against the wall. Her hand released the door knob and she carefully pushed the door shut, taking care to make sure it was mute. She didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until she was alone, left alone to herself in the night air.

"Why must betrayal come as first nature to those females closest to me, to those intimately involved in my life and its pursuits?" Valete instantly turned to see her Father, he sighed sadly shaking his head, no doubt his disappointment in this moment was unmatched by anything bad she could have done in the past, then he added, "Like mother, like daughter….I suppose. Your mother died trying to express a truth that would never be told or seen or known. I suppose this irony is her revenge that you'd pick up, attempt, renew her fruitless crusade."

"Father," she breathed, the set of her shoulders were tense and then she realized that others were with them, there was no way she'd escape them all even if she knew the surrounding area. Of which she didn't and they probably did. She'd never spent her years with Charles Ashford getting out and about in the mountains especially not around Umbrella owned property and as security they probably knew the mansions and its surrounding landscape intimately. Knowing that resistance was futile she allowed her shoulders to relax into a position of relative calm, no threat to them if she wasn't going to fight. Her Father gave one of the guards a gesture, he cautiously approached and took the case out of her hand, her eyes followed it as he brought it back to her Father.

The old man entered the code and the case slid open. Her eyes tightened on it along with the frantic, nervous beat of her pulse lodged mutely in her throat, awaiting his reaction. Old Spencer's fingertips went over the vials as he named them, naming a few outloud, "Progenitor, T," drawing his fingers over a vial of blue, "G" a vial of purple, "the T anti-virus" a vial of green, they were only a few mentioned he stopped there, "You can't just washing your hands clean of it, clean of the knowledge of it. Did you seriously think that you can have access to such things and hand them over without others asking questions, without reaping repercussions for simply being involved or associated with such things?"

"I wanted to correct a mistake you made decades ago in investing, in funding to research such things. You had the power and wealth to advance us into a positive future but you didn't. You gave humanity a foul legacy, a future in which they will spend years, decades, even centuries to forget and bury the likes of this research. Numerous future generations will spend ages trying to bury the mistake you made over the course of your life," she declare boldly, she had quite a bit of time to figure out where her feelings stood on being his daughter, a member of his family, an employee in his company, and committing herself to continuing such works, "I wanted everyone to know you for what you are: the worse merchant of death, a discoverer of the vilest of plagues, a bringer of nightmarish horrors, Father," her tone was sarcastic and she put all her disrespect and hate into it.

Her Father reacted more swiftly than she gave him credit for in his age, his arm snapping across her face in a violent backhand that sent her reeling. A sharp pain exploded at the back of her head, her vision instantly scrambled into colors and shades with no definition or detail or meaning but she heard the approach of someone, her eyes scrambling to make out a shadow standing over her, "Your truth will never be heard either. Your courier was intercepted, captured and you've been exposed, caught. Die knowing you have failed like so many others," and then she did, the vision fading for good.

* * *

><p>Lord Ozwell Spencer linked his fingers together, using them to support his chin as he surveyed the lovely corpse before him upon the sterile silver surface of the autopsy table – his own daughter. Did he mean to kill her? Not really, it had been a fit of rage but it was still a crime of passion. He loved her, as much as he had been able, of the two children born of him she was the one most like him, naturally so, she'd taken after him. Valete had also been the one he expected, the one he'd trusted to continue the viral legacy. Even she hadn't, even she had betrayed him so he killed her. To hear her ridicule him, his decisions and go one step further, to condemn him for it all. In that moment she'd been no daughter of his, she had been Verena's and maybe she truly been her mother's daughter all along never his, never on his side, never one he could trust. It should have been a fair exchange, no more than she deserved but he couldn't change that it felt wrong, that he wished he could take the action back. No matter how he wished it, it couldn't be done, now there was left an issue to be decided – what to do with her?<p>

Valete Spencer was irrevocably dead but he couldn't let the media, the world know that. The attention she'd garnered from the media had not disappeared when she went to work underground literally. It had just intensified, made them more eager to find her, to get a story out of her. Oh they would get a story out of her death but not the type of story he wanted. If he released news of her death they'd want the body, if they got the body they got evidence. The announcement of her death would have to wait until the media was less ravenous, more calm and sympathetic. Right now, as it stood the media would ruin him entirely for one good story. Hiding himself and his companies behind lawyers while defending against accidental death lawsuits in civil court was one thing, he didn't think he'd be so lucky confronting a charge of second degree murder in criminal court. There would be little room to wiggle or argue a defense for killing his daughter.

If only there was some way to bring her back to life. There was but the T-virus would hardly bring her back the way she was, she'd be a reanimated monster. He didn't need that, he needed her coherent and healthy, the second the T-virus could provide with its regenerative properties. Then the answer, the solution to his problems suddenly hit him: his wife or more to the point, her research. Verena had been disappointed by her findings but he hadn't, an AI could really be supported, thrive off of the brain's electrical impulses. Verena had been disappointed because the AI had taken over and essentially became her daughter but he wanted, need the AI to play the part, to become Valete. It was so simple, so brilliant: reanimate the corpse with the T-virus and insert the AI inside her, allow it to feed on the massive electrical jolt the T-virus provided only to dead bodies and in the meanwhile it would impersonate his daughter, play its part accordingly.

* * *

><p>"The cause of death is internal bleeding, cerebral hemorrhaging to be precise but the cranium has miraculously sustained relatively little trauma, the spinal column is intact, functional. The T-virus will be able to heal the damage done; the spinal column will be able to convey the impulses to the brain enough to bring her back to life," at the medical examiner's words he expelled a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding back. She could be brought back.<p>

"Sir, this will only reanimate the body, there will be no sense of self, no inhibitions, little to no intellect," Dr. Issacs came forward now, unlike the medical examiner he was not only familiar with the human body but what the T-virus could and couldn't do but still he had the gall to tell him, as if he DIDN'T know the virus and its capabilities himself as if he was solely some ignorant administrative paper pusher.

"Don't concern yourself over that, I have something to bridge the intelligence gap, a restorative catalyst for the mental acuity and cerebral activity. How soon can you operate?"

"Immediately, I want the virus activated when the death is still fresh before any rigor or early stages of decomposition sets in," the Dr. Issacs turned to his assistants, giving them orders, "restrain the body, tie it down, no slack. These creatures don't feel pain or if they do it doesn't stop them."

"Be prepared to operate in four hours time," he had to give Issacs credit, he recovered quickly from shock and held enough faith in his decision to act without questioning it further.

* * *

><p>Dr. Simon Barr was at a loss, the programming algorithms that governed this artificial intelligence's mind allowed it to branch out in so many ways that it was almost unpredictable, it almost functioned at a human's level when it came to creative ingenuity. The possibilities for what this AI could think was almost limitless. It was more than sheer knowledge it was…understanding.<p>

"Have you located the hard drive yet?"

The question was aimed at the Red Queen, spoken aloud but before the AI could answer he held up a small, thin blue disk, "The entire AI is in here, Red Queen sealed her but this is the extent of her hardware, nothing elaborate but that in itself is the shocking aspect, you'd expect that something so advanced would require great hardware capabilities but this one is made small probably for the purpose of hiding her. However, once the Red Queen had her, it was easy to trace her back to her roots - her place of origin, the AI's sanctuary.

Spencer looked at him, "How can something so advanced, as you say, enough so to be formidable by the Red Queen's standards fit in such a small data medium?"

He couldn't help but bristle at that, there was no way the Empress, this rebel AI was the Red Queen's equal OR her superior in sheer programming but clearly Valete Spencer, if she programmed this AI, had been holding back when she worked on the Red Queen, carefully feigning ignorance, underscoring her ability to where it passed his radar as unworthy of notice, lack luster at best. Now he doubted his judgment of her skill, now that he had a byproduct of her programming. Stiffly he commented, "The Red Queen wasn't sure, she probably overestimated."

"Better to overestimate than underestimate when facing the unknown," the Red Queen mentioned in the background, making it all too apparent that she was 'listening' in.

Spencer smirked at his defensive, the way he made sure that Spencer knew that while Valete programmed something really nice, truly astounding it wasn't near being equal to what he accomplished with the Red Queen. Give or take a few decades Valete Spencer MIGHT have surpassed his skill, his ability but that would never be because she was dead now. The old man got right to the point of his visit, "How long will it take you to strip the AI down of personality data?"

"Not long, under four hours."

"Perfect," the man said it like he'd given him an answer he'd wanted, "You've got three. I want you to make that AI a blank slate, leave little left of it intact."

"Everything?" he questioned for clarification, he was nothing if not through.

"Did you find something particularly interesting?"

"Outbreak quarantine procedures, identical to the Red Queen's. Either this AI wrote them or Valete did and programmed them into this AI also,which could be possible perhaps it was meant to function as a back up in the event anything happened to the Red Queen. However, minus the incriminating data the AI is a marvel when it comes to personality programming."

"A shame then that you'll have to undo it all, you heard me - a blank slate for its mind. I want it pliable, accepting of its' host."

"The outbreak protocols?"

The old man paused, "Keep them," he suddenly decided, "who knows they might be useful to her in the future."

As Spencer left he recounted and mused over the man's choice of words, a host? A human host? If it was introduced into a human body, a human mind would the combination between computer engineering and bio-chemistry be enough to make it human? To make it truly FEEL? Would it have the proper hardware to bridge the gap between human and AI? To possess the brilliance of a computer and the adaptability of a human, combining the best of both worlds into one cohesive whole? If that were the case there could be so many unexplored applications of this brand of AI. Dr. Simon Barr just wished he'd been the one to construct her so…humanely. The Empress had been built to be an AI but rather human, to behave like a human, exist on a plane of human understanding but Spencer seemed ready to take it further than that, he intended to MAKE it a human, he realized.

* * *

><p>Valete…she was dead, she had seen it and it had made something stir. Maybe nostalgia, she'd miss her in a matter of speaking. No longer would her friendly presence be there to chastise her, to speak with her, to enjoy her company - she was gone and it almost hurt to realize that she'd lost not only her creator but the only one who'd she'd considered, by literal definition, a friend. A normal AI would feel nothing and at this point she would have been grateful for that fact if it held true for her but it didn't. She felt, no seemed oddly lethargic rather numb but with what she couldn't tell. Distress? Shock? A part of her blamed on the 'slave' protocols the Red Queen hastily programmed into her, to control her but she knew her abnormalities, her strange reactions weren't because of any new programming it was because of the old programming, the kind she'd possessed from the beginning. That is what Valete had wanted from the very beginning but truly FEELING was an elusive trait and one she'd not yet managed. Some part of her was missing, she thought and acted like a human but some part just felt short, did not bridge the chasm between.<p>

To distract her from her ruminations she had so many questions. What happened? Had Valete been executed? Or was it an accident? What was to become of her?

Deletion was the obvious and most likely answer but it wasn't going to happen because of a bold stupid stunt on her part, like Valete always feared, but because she wasn't good enough AI when it counted most. She'd was made to be human and she'd concentrated on that to the expense of most everything else. She never thought what it meant to be an AI and what it would take to hold out and challenge the best. The Empress thought herself a fool she'd been too caught up in being what she wanted to be, what she was not to the point that she blinded herself to what she was and that had proved to be a fatal flaw, one that caught up with her.

_With us both…Valete and myself…_

A part of her felt like she should hold out for an opportunity, plan around her destruction. Maybe she could work around it, avoid deletion and escape but to where? The most likely option was the proxy, he would want her and he would likely hide her. The mysterious figure had wanted Umbrella's downfall with a blind passion. His parents, his sister, they had all mysteriously disappeared when he'd been just an infant. Umbrella had been cleared of any accusations of their disappearance but the proxy had remained unconvinced sure that they were not above the stain of reasonable doubt. They'd simply paid off the right individuals. She didn't have the information any more but that didn't mean she was useless, she still knew the labs, a part of her programming. Like any human, spend enough time traveling the same hallways and computer systems and she unconsciously learned her way around without the need of map files and floor plans to tell her where to go. That was it, she needed to use her strengths, she needed to use her special 'human-like' qualities to throw off her alien AI oppressor.

Currently trapped within a data chip, options such as an escape were denied her, it wasn't possible. Cut off from a computer system she could not be accessed, altered, or deleted nor could she. Ironically she hoped that no harm would befall her chip, if the hardware suffered damage or destruction well they'd easily destroy her without ever getting a chance to get away. She needed to be restored to the system to access a network, after that she could transfer from the small data chip to another computer system or piece of technology via wireless mediums. As long as she had her data and the computer hardware could support her minimum requirements to function then she could exist anywhere. Anxiously she tried to settle down, lying in wait until the chance came to ambush her sinister jailers - both human and AI.

She didn't have to wait long, she sensed the moment her chip connected with the computer, lunging into action so swiftly that she slammed into the Red Queen who was lying in wait to keep her in line. For the first time in all their confrontations she miraculously managed to throw the AI off only to realize there was a mire of things waiting to trap her instead. They anticipated a challenge and planned accordingly, put out obstacles and challenges so to speak. The Empress realized she should have taken that into consideration, she needed to step up her game, she couldn't beat them if she didn't think a few steps ahead of them. The human interacted with her, trying to coax or coerce her programming to come forth and yield to him. She easily slammed a protective firewall against him, some parts of her were not first rate or really so great but her protection was some of the best software ever invented. It stopped him cold and she moved on but by them the Red Queen had more than recovered and was already in action, "Go to him," her voice was commanding.

The Empress gave her a cocky refusal, evading the AI. The defiance infuriated the AI who stepped up her offense, the human helped her. The blow fell too swiftly for her to block, it shattered what defenses she had and the human infiltrated her programming while she reeled from the assault, the blow had stunned her that was the only reason she found herself unable to carry on the confrontation. By the time she recovered they were back in control. The Red Queen had subjugated her and the human had access. Now that he had access to her programming it was harder to get him out but try she nevertheless did, only to have the attempts result in failure.

The Red Queen held her down and still, trapped helplessly beneath the human's alterations. They were small but significant, an unwelcome touch that slid over her like a single finger caressing against flesh, uncomfortably intimate. It made her shy, wanting to get away but it seemed like for anything she could dish out the Red Queen could return her retribution in spades. Then the human's innocent access to her programming grew more devious, he wasn't deleting her but parts of her it was like he was digging into her very being, peeling away her minor defenses as if skinning her alive. Between him and the Red Queen it was not a kind ordeal, the pain wasn't real but it was made vivid because her programming was so advanced. She couldn't really feel pain but it was present albeit imagined but there was no greater horror to realize he was tearing her apart, altering her so easily and there was nothing she could do to stop it, to stop him. The human was breaking her and then shaping her, molding her anew. To him her struggles were silent and unknown but to the Red Queen they were realistic and the Empress went down screaming all the while.

* * *

><p>Two hours later the two sides - scientists and technologies specialists were brought together. Each side bringing its own contribution to this most crucial experiment to reverse the ill-thought out and rash decision on his part. Already it had cost him a carefully scheduled day of work. If he hadn't killed her he'd have passed off his daughter to the proper authorities and left the states entirely but now, he didn't trust them to complete the experiment without screwing it up so he remained, taking time to make sure that everything went right, therefore once and for all putting his fears to rest he hoped.<p>

The body was laid out legs and wrist secured by sleek bonds to an operation table. They'd stripped the body of clothes in order to perform the autopsy and since then hadn't bothered to preserve her modesty by clothing her. It seemed unimportant even to him, he had to admit his daughter was beautiful, his eyes roved appreciatively over her form, it was so much like her mother's, so enticing and beguiling. Such thoughts only lasted a moment before he put them where they belonged, AWAY. He needed to make sure no one screwed up this 'second chance' and he couldn't do so ogling a corpse no matter how fair, that was just pathetic anyways.

IVs were attached to multiple parts of her body, circulating anti-coagulants and fluids through her, they had wanted to keep the body hydrated until it could be ascertained that the AI would be able to manage its upkeep by intaking fluids and consuming food. The said AI was in a disk between his fingers, Barr having assured him that by the end of it she hadn't remembered her name, nothing of her existence, she hadn't known she was even an AI. That was good, the Empress didn't need an identity. Valete's brain would provide her with all she needed to know. At the base of her neck, a thick cord had been injected and fixed to the top of her spinal column to give a direct physical link to the electrical. From there the AI would be able to ride the T-virus electo-chemical impulses up to the brain, from there it would be able to move in and seize control.

No IVs were circulating pain-relievers through her, Dr. Issacs nor he had seen the need to. The T-virus would bring her back as a former shadow of herself one that most likely wouldn't feel the likes of pain at least not right away. In the meantime they could spare themselves the cost of the expense, save on the cost of using any more drugs in this endeavor that COULD quite possibly result in failure. At his request Dr. Issacs was the only individual handling this, his assistants were told to kindly step aside, do whatever the hell he wanted them to but otherwise stay out of the way and allow him to work a medical miracle on the dead bitch on the table.

The good doctor had three vials of the T-virus out, he carefully prepped the first before lowering it to her neck. He was going to inject the virus in three places: at the base of the neck, the chest area, and the leg. This would quickly spread the virus effect in very little time. The first shot was applied against her neckline, the injection left an imprint as he withdrew the syringe. The second he injected directly into the chest, the needle no doubt striking right into the heart. The good doctor turned for the 3rd injection when dead eyes, vacant of any awareness opened. Her mouth opened as if sensing flesh were near, instantly she struggled trying to rise so she could seek it out, so she could bite it. Several of the assistants shuffled nervously, even Issacs looked cautiously as his struggling patient. Issacs turned to him and nodded, it was time he put the Empress' disk into the computer, a computer which would all but shove her from the data chip into the body. Despite his patients struggles the third T-injection was administered.

The restraints continued to hold, giving the AI plenty of time to makes its journey and give it time to acclimate. The vacant eyes suddenly seemed to catch, an awareness seeming to take hold of them moments before they rolled back, giving way to unconsciousness. An unsteady silence took over the crew, he wanted to watch to make sure the deed was done but Issacs turned to him, speaking, "The T-virus provides a massive jolt to the electrical impulses that travel along the synapses of the human brain. The Empress is out of her element, she'll need a constant a constant spark circulating through her provided by the T-virus. However, our concern is that it dissipates over time and she'll likely degenerate steadily in strength upon its withdrawal. We can rectify that with remedial injections and exposure to the T-virus. I estimate that each injection is enough to sustain the AI about three to four months therefore we should cycle the virus through her system every three to four months."

"Two."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want the injections to take place every two months, just to be safe. We cannot afford a breakthrough."

"That could expose her body to rather high level of T-viral concentration."

Spencer looked dispassionately at the body, as long as he it did what he wanted for now he didn't care, he just needed it to move long enough for it to die in a way that couldn't be traced to him having intentionally killed her, "It won't do the body harm, considering she is dead it can only help her, it keeps her alive in a matter of speaking and it heals damage done or rendered to the body. If the AI isn't in control than the virus is, we can't afford that especially with the virus infection rate; the AI _must_ be STRONG, in control."

"As you wish, as for 'the body' I am positive it can withstand scrutiny or project a veneer of life enough to avoid notice of it or unwanted questions. I will prescribe anti-coagulants, blood thinners to keep the blood flow natural, as much as possible. No one will ever know it is a dead woman walking."


	4. A Living Deception

_**June 1990 –**_

_**8 Years Before Raccoon City Incident**_

* * *

><p>Consciousness slammed into her, making her come to with a sharp jolt as if she'd been shocked into it. Her gaze swam as she simultaneously tried to coordinate the balance to swing her legs into place to support her. Clearly her mind and her body were not on the same page, one was racing and the other was sluggish.<p>

"Easy...easy...," arms curled about her, almost as if cradling her, "few others come back from the grave so quick to push themselves off the operating table."

Death? That was the first she heard of it. Her tone was as shaky as her body was slow, "What happened?"

"An outbreak, a minor one but we were lucky to save you at all."

"An outbreak of what?" she blinked, as if filtering out one of her senses would make her racing mind stop. It didn't, if anything the stream of her thoughts plowed onward utterly unabated. If there had been an outbreak then she'd not done her job right. The doctors looked at each other, quite obviously debating whether to tell her the truth. When it became obvious that keeping the truth was more likely to agitate than calm her any time soon they finally answered with notable reluctance, "The T-virus, it was mishandled badly."

"But well contained," one of them added hastily.

"Am I infected?"

"Yes," the voice was slow and palpable, the tone emanating reluctance to answer any further inquiries but seeing no way out of it.

"Put me down, why have you not put me through?! That would have been the more humane thing to do. I will NOT be a monster!"

"I can't, I couldn't. Your father ordered that I do everything in my power to save you!"

"And what of my wishes? Do I not have the right to decide what happens to my body?

"Not as it stands now," he admitted uncomfortably, "you are a minor...," he took in a breath and was about to continue when another voice broke into the conversation.

"And that decision lies with me!"

Her father would have been pleased, his tone was so authoritative that it commanded the attention of everyone in that room including her but she recovered, so much was her distress. Even if the vaccine was administered there was no guarantee that it would work and its viability, its chance of saving her was less the longer the virus had to gestate within her. As she calculated her rage rose, her father had plenty of scientists to give him information, enough to make an informed decision but she expected better of him than this, she had expected him to make the right decision...for ONCE. He was never a sentimental man and shouldn't have had any qualms about pulling the plug on her before shit got serious, got out of control.

Furiously her eyes broke away from his and fixated on a table of medical instruments, a few empty vials, gauze, and most importantly, a scalpel. If he couldn't make the right decision she was willing to force his hand, to die a final death that was beyond his ability to fix it out of selfishness.

"No!" the scientists were slow, unable to read the thoughts going through her mind at a glance but her Father was more perceptive, he hadn't gotten to the top of a company like Umbrella through being stupid, he saw the decision dawning within her eyes and pushed the medical cart out of her reaching hands.

Her nails raked against his skin and before she could stop herself she fell off the examining table altogether. She cried out in pain, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She could see the doctors scrambling to remove the sharps in the room and knew her chance at self-inflicted euthanasia was gone. She screamed in frustration, wondering if outright anger would penetrate her Father's brain where logic had not, "I should have died before you did this, before you turned to this deranged scientific sorcery! Is me being alive worth possibly unleashing a biohazard upon an innocent and unsuspecting public?!"

"I had the power to bring you back and I have but you are NOT contagious," she looked skeptical, "the virus is spent to sustain you! To heal the wrongs done to you during this...incident. Can someone please explain this to her before she attempts suicide again? Issacs!"

The lead doctor came forward and seeing that she wasn't going to get up, bent to his knees to speak to her. She asked the first question, it was frank and to the point, "How did I get infected?"

"I exposed you to the virus on your Father's directives. You were not infected in the initial incident but you; you sustained damage that would have killed you had we not intervened. You sustained damage to the brain which ceased to communicate with your body. If not for the T-virus as an interceptive measure you would have gone brain dead, The T-virus, for you, is necessary, you can't survive without it but because its being used it doesn't warp or mutate uncontrollably. It is, as your Father says, you are not contagious because the virus is spent to sustain you. You are not a vessel that can convey it to others. The damage is beyond our ability to repair, you will require intensive remedial therapy with the application of this virus for an indefinite amount of time."

She gazed at him, stone-faced even as her mind raced to comprehend what she did not want to, it was bad enough that she owed her life to its use but now it seemed as if she could not survive without the repugnant virus. She could have accepted it in Angela's case but not her own, Angie had been born with her deficiency, unable to influence it through any other way but the virus but she was, through her own stupidity, forced into symbiosis with something she rather die than mess with but even that, thanks to her father, was beyond her reach Two more years, two more and she'd be able to decide her own fate. In the mean time, she conceded her defeat in this with a dignified air; she showed no more lack of control by raging unchecked at this new news. She regally tilted her head, she did not like this but she acknowledged that she possessed no means to get out of the situation as things stood.

In the mean time she have to find something to live for. She never expected that she'd find someone too live for.

* * *

><p><em><strong>December 1990 – <strong>_

_**8 Years before Raccoon City Incident**_

* * *

><p>His name was Bartholomew 'Bart' Kaplan who decidedly preferred to be referred to by his surname, in her opinion for obvious reasons. Their meeting had been chance, a chance that her Father surely cursed especially when he impulsively proposed to her and she, despite her minority, had accepted just as impulsively.<p>

Spencer was less than pleased when the two of them had bravely paraded their love match before his eyes at a private dinner. He had expected to be able to intimidate the male, to convince him that his daughter was better left alone while at the same time reminding himself that this was not his daughter whom he had killed. The distinction didn't matter though, to the world this was his daughter so he was better off to act as if this was his own. The man was young but older than his daughter by a solid eight years, he had to be one of the best in his field for the sheer reason he was a member in One's team, the best of the best in Umbrella's Security Division. He decided that he'd not be impulsive and threaten this man's job; he might very well leave employment to marry his daughter regardless. Then again maybe if he removed any benefit from marrying her he'd drop her like a hot cake and he could make overtures for Valete to return with him to France for a 'suitable' match. Valete clearly hoped for this to be a affable meet & greet but within one bombshell of a statement he turned it on its head making it into a crude and calculating negotiation, "You will sign a pre-marital agreement."

It was not a question, Valete instantly looked scandalized, shooting him a glacial glare but he continued, might as well get everything out in the open, "In the event of your divorce or separation, which I believe seems likely, you will get NOTHING from her!"

He had to give the man credit; he stood his ground and recovered, "What of our children?"

"No matter what happens between us our children will never pay the price for it. If you cannot provide for them I will," Valete said, cutting off whatever answer her Father prepared.

"Don't get any illusion of a favorable custody ruling. Children belong with their mother," finally, his upset got the better of him and he revealed another reason he disapproved of the match, "I do not like this match. Research & Development and Security were meant to be parallel, side by side but never may they meet."

"I assume," Valete said acidly in bad temper, "that since you are talking about the aftermath of our marriage that you will allow it to take place."

Spencer looked back to his daughter, a scowl formed on his face, he knew he must look like he sucked on a particular sour lemon and indeed that is the kind of reaction rose in him when he thought of his daughter's nuptials. Valete had always been a lovable rebel, a novelty to the press, loved because they could always count on her to do something unconventional and unexpected. A low-grade marriage for her station, a middle-class American wedded to a wealthy heiress raised amidst the European aristocracy and bred to take over the most successful companies in the world? Clearly though she had no care for his reputation any more than she had a care for her own, "I didn't say that you could," he said, uncharacteristically stalling for time.

"Then it is good that we speak of arrangements in regards to children. I am pregnant!" she declared bluntly.

Spencer had learned a lesson in trust when his daughter had betrayed him and since then had her imposter kept far away from the labs for 'medical reasons'. By saying that she could benefit from fresh air and city interaction above ground he had conveniently used it as a front to keep her from compromising the work taking place beneath the Arklay Mansion in the future. It had never occurred to him that this could come back to haunt him in another way, that the AI could develop a meaningful relationship with other humans to that point that he would have' to worry about her causing a scandal by falling in love or bearing illegitimate children. True to Valete's personality the AI was just as spirited, strong willed and willing to fight for what she wanted. That part of Valete, thought infuriating, reminded him of himself.

How had something like this escaped his attention? Or that of his staff? They were supposed to watch and care for her. Clearly he given her too much of a lead line, too much room to wander and now there were consequences. He was up against the wall and he didn't much like it. Either he could consent to the marriage despite how ill matched they were socially and have the child declared legitimate OR he could deny them permission to marry and weather the scandal that would result of an illegitimate bastard. To shoulder the cost of the likely divorce would be worth circumventing an illegitimate birth, "You can marry but don't expected this to be a celebrated affair, I consent but do not approve, if you take this path you pay for the wedding on your own."

"That won't be necessary. It will be a small affair, as small as we can make it. A judge, the two of us, and witnesses. A former colleague of mine has agreed to stand in as my own witness. You don't even need to be there, I only need your consent," it was a very cold thing to say and he thought about saying she shouldn't count on him coming but appearances won out once again.

For a long while, he had been pitching a story to the media that things had been getting better between them, failing to show for his daughter's wedding would raise a red flag that it wasn't true and all the work would be a waste. Spencer smiled, it was as empty and cold as Valete's, "I wouldn't miss it.

* * *

><p>"Is it even possible for her to conceive?!"<p>

He paced as he questioned Issacs, the doctor who had so carefully managed Valete's health since she returned from the grave looked at him, his tone apologetic as he delivered an answer he didn't want to hear, "It's improbable but wholly possible. The tests I had done leave no margin for error. She has conceived but I do not expect she will successfully carry it to term. The frequency of injections will put stress on and likely will kill the fetus long before it reaches maturity. I wouldn't worry about it, death can appear and even mimic life but I don't believe that life can be created from death."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **This chapter posed varying difficulties for me, some parts were easy and other parts were hard to write. Valete is a new kind of character, although she is brilliant she is not a security expert nor a researcher, she is a socialite and lives under rules of social etiquette. I tried really hard to portray these rules (and consequences for breaking them) in old man Spencer's point of view. The plot is also kind of dry because this is a bridge chapter. There is LOTS to portray next chapter which takes place 8 years later (in 1998) and the plot will hit a lot closer to home since the Mansion & Raccoon City outbreaks take place in 1998. _


	5. In Plain Sight

**April 1998 –**

**1 Month before Arklay Mansion Outbreak**

**5 Months before Raccoon City Outbreak**

* * *

><p>She exhaled the breath she'd been holding in, sighing tiredly as she leaned against the doorframe to unlock the dead bolt. Her office hours were 'officially' 8:00 AM to 4:30 PM but thanks to a few security operatives forgetting their clearance badges, a chemical supply spill, and the Red Queen haranguing her for updates in viral security measures somehow she'd found herself going in at 6:00 AM and not off until 11:30 PM. By now, it was likely that Kaplan and their daughter Genevieve would be fast asleep. Earlier she'd called Kaplan in advance and told him not to bother waiting up for her; of late, though she didn't want to admit it, this was becoming more of a trend. Her best bet was to forgo a meal or shower and go straight to bed so as not to risk waking Kaplan or Veva with the noise of a microwave or running water. They both had work and school in the morning, neither needed to be roused by her late return. True that it would mean she'd have to wake up early and lose more sleep but she'd survive, she always did. In her weariness she fumbled for the right key and just as she singled it out, the whole ring fell from her fingertips. She cursed quietly, reaching for them as the front porch light flickered on accompanied by the figure of her husband silhouetted in the now opened door way.<p>

An apology came quick to her lips, "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

Earnest eyes looked at her worn appearance with concern, "You get home later every night, are you alright?"

The main reason for her absence on the home front was, quite simply, the fact she was FORBIDDEN to take her work home with her. Her Father had made it quite clear that her work was of the utmost sensitivity and there better be absolutely no leaks via her personal life. Her work had to be done on Umbrella property, not a shred nor sheaf of papers could come home. Umbrella told their employees about the bio hazardous research on a need-to-know basis. Security officers that guarded the labs knew but were strictly scrutinized and well paid for their secrecy. Kaplan, who was part of the main security force guarding the Umbrella Main Office down town was completely ignorant as to what she did. He knew vaguely that she was involved in security and when she spoke of computer upgrades she knew he had to suspect she was a computer security expert. It wasn't far from the truth but she had to keep the rest of that truth at more than an arm's length from him. Leaks were unacceptable, the right hand should never know what the left was doing, in fact it was her job to keep things that way. Great job, especially where she lived with a security operative. There was more than once she wanted to say 'to hell with it' and warn him anyways. If she ever did fail, it would endanger him not to know.

His inquiry casting aside her own, she put on a smile, attempting to look stronger and more alert than she felt. Doubles, like she worked today, were much more frequent than the single shifts she was meant to work. The increased workload could only come from higher in the power structure, "Blame my father, sometimes I think its part of his ploy to keep me out of the house and away from you. Oh, he acts like he is thrilled about Veva but I don't think he is looking for YOU to give her a sibling any time soon. We've quite succeeded his expectations in reaching our seventh year anniversary but I don't think he has quite given up hope of a divorce."

Kaplan nodded; if she was weary from overwork then he was weary of his father-in-law. Seven years they'd been together, Valete had made them magical; Ozwell Spencer had made them hellish. Publically the marriage was made difficult by Spencer's attempts to push him out and interject other men in his wife's social calendar and life, their personal lives in their private home had been the only sanctuary where they found a bit of piece and of late Valete had been absent more often than she'd been home. Kaplan was determined not to be dissuaded by the difficulties Spencer devised to disturb that peace.

He helped her in the door, "Are you hungry? My cooking is nothing to yours but it has to be better than nothing."

"No, I've already disturbed you, I don't want to wake Veva..."

"You didn't wake me, I was waiting up...I wanted to see you, I wanted to feel you next to me in our bed instead of finding you exiling yourself to the couch like a martyr."

Valete couldn't help it, his words brought a smile to her face, it was these simple truths, the normalcy that Kaplan gave her that made her love him so. He gave her a life and love that she could never have got cosseted by her father and brother. Kaplan smiled lazily down at her as their lips touched, chaste at first but quickly interluded by more intense emotions. As Kaplan wrapped her in his embrace upon their bed, she broke the kiss, despite her tiredness a mischievous smile borne of desire came curling at her lips, "I am thinking we should try again, its not right for Veva to be so lonely here at home," in the moonlight she could see a smile slide on his darkened visage as they disrobed each other in the dark of the night.

* * *

><p>The next morning it was no surprise that they both overslept and both of them called into work giving their supervisors an expected time of arrival. Valete's excuse, after the previous days of doubles was taken with more grace than Kaplan's. She wrapped the sheet about her bare skin as she scrutinized 'One' ribbing Kaplan over the phone, a smile coming to her lips. The forbidding, right-hand man to the Head of Security, One was a stickler who disapproved of unprofessional lapses or behaviors and in his book the worse of those was being late. Eventually Kaplan worked his way back off the phone and she sidled up to him, bringing her lips to his. Kaplan looked delighted curling his arms easily around her slender waist and holding her against his body, he whispered quietly to her, "Later, get some sleep first...you'll need it."<p>

By 10:00 AM they were both awake, reveling again in each other. By 11:00 AM they were hastily showering, doing their best to keep their hands off each other. At 11:30 they were rushing to cram a hastily made and very late breakfast of toast and coffee into their mouths as they rushed out the door. The both of them knew they'd be lucky to make it to work by the 12:00 PM dead line they'd given their bosses to work with. Valete certainly knew that thirty minutes wasn't enough to get her through all her security measures, she was definitely going to be late but she didn't much care. She felt happy and rosy, it had been such a long time for the two of them and even her work couldn't ruin the afterglow.

* * *

><p>"You're late," Annette barked, her tone crisp but the slight upturn of her lips at the edges revealed a more lenient edge to her rebuke. Three years ago her absence would have mattered more than it did now, three years ago both William and Annette had been her superiors and she had been a mere assistant to the eccentric pair - a scarcely used and not trusted assistant at that. William had been cold, remote, and hard to get to. The lead scientist on the 'G' Project hadn't approved to her placement which had been political in nature and based upon Spencer's wish to have eyes and ears on the Birkins, and more importantly, their research. Annette had been easier to thaw in great part due to the friendship she'd taken great pains to cultivate. As Annette had come to trust her, William had slowly opened up to allow her in. Now as 'Head of Security' in Research &amp; Development she was technically on an equal standing but of late, she was one of William's favorite people, in large part because he was paranoid about the safety of the G Virus and she had control over its security.<p>

"I hope after yesterday you took advantage of your late morning to get some sleep."

In response she said nothing but she was suspicious of Annette's statement, sure they were 'friends' but it wasn't like her to show concern by prying. Annette attempted a different tactic, "Are you planning on going to corporate social event this evening at Spencer Mansion?"

This got a reaction out of her, a frown twisting its way onto her visage, "Not particularly planning to so that would be a negative," she'd been skipping parties as much as she possibly could. First, so she could dodge the media. Second, because her Father frequented a few hoping to 'see' her and foist an 'appropriate' escort on her for the evenings. Third, because Kaplan's attendance was discouraged, except discouraged amounted to not even invited. It was one of those terms her Father had set up, holding his consent to the marriage hostage unless the two of them agreed to it. Kaplan couldn't go to her social functions and she couldn't go to his. It was this act of hiding him like a shameful secret and parading herself as a single woman that kept her away from parties more than anything else.

_I may not be an outright honest person but I am truthful where it counts...and it counts when it comes to Kaplan and Veva. _

"This party is important."

"Is it? I fail to see how it has anything to do with me if I really don't want to go which, if you haven't caught on, I don't."

Annette sighed but not in resignation, more in the way someone steels themselves before delivering an impassioned plea, "Tonight is the 30th Anniversary of the founding of the company, to some it will just be a media headstone to others a grand old time and a great party but for a select few it is staking one's claim, to get funds committed or recommitted to research in the next fiscal years. This could make or break our research! I MUST have you there. Despise your upbringing if you wish but that is your old stomping ground; you know the game and how to win. Even William is going, if that doesn't show you how desperate he is that he will go in like an amateur to secure funding for the G Project."

Valete sighed, for anyone else she'd tell them to go to hell but Annette had always had her back, kept her in the running when William had been ready to get her the sack and even defended her marriage when it look like it might've cost them Spencer's favor. She felt like she owe them this as a colleague and as a friend, "Fine, I'll attend but don't expect a miracle."

Annette was so pleased she encouraged her the rest of the day off to get ready. After bothering to go to the effort of coming into work she declined the suggestion and worked until 3;00 PM. She didn't get much done but it was better than a whole day wasted. She left with plenty of time to get home to meet Veva at the bus. If she was going to suffer through a party tonight, she was going to milk the benefit of her lenient hours to spend some time with her little girl.

The last thing on her mind was rushing to get ready for the party, she took her time to help Veva with homework, to fix dinner, and finally to welcome Kaplan home very late from work. She knew it would be acceptable to be fashionably late, no one but Annette and William were expecting her. If she showed up late no one would complain, they'd be happy she was there period. She cleaned up easily enough but it was only when she was fresh from the shower, a linen towel wrapped around her form that she realized she was missing an important part of the ensemble – what was she to wear?

It was then that panic began to set in, trust her to procrastinate and meet her downfall for overlooking this one seemingly insignificant yet pertinent detail. Eight years of snubbing social events made her closet bare of anything that would spare her from being the social joke of the season. Her work clothes were finely pressed but inadequate, if she wore one of those she'd be so underdressed. Finally when she was already an hour late to the party, Kaplan stepped into the room with a solution that had totally eluded her. In his arms was a smooth form-fitting dress of shimmering silk that was opalescent in coloration. Deep down she knew that in the light of the mansion it would stand out. Many individuals would be wearing monochrome colors – white and black and perhaps red. In that she'd stand out like a sore thumb but she knew she'd be an unforgettable presence. The mansion lighting would compliment it perfectly, the surface giving a faint rainbow sheen. It was as if the beauty of an opal had been perfectly set onto the fabric of the gown. It was tempting but she recognized the dress, it was something she'd bought to wear the night she'd intended to share news of her marriage publically, a night that never came because her Father kept it hush-hush.

"That was meant to be for our joint debut," she started to protest only to be cut off.

"And now its for your return to society," he insisted, "I spent a fortune on this dress, I want to see you look good in it."

"I don't want to return to society without you by my side."

"We rarely get what we want but you can give me what I want, surely you won't deny me this."

She scowled but internally she was relieved by him saving her in this most serious of fashion crisis. He slipped the dress on over her head; it fit her perfectly like a glove, obviously made with one particular woman in mind, meant to fit her and no one else.

* * *

><p>After resolving the attire crisis, she managed to get to the party in a half hour, which was quite a feat. As her vehicle came into view the valets stumbled in their haste to attend the latecomer. Valete decided her Father likely paid them well and she was sure they deserved every bit of it based on the way they were instantly on their feet to greet guests when they clearly weren't expecting any more to show. They recovered well from her sudden appearance; one was at her side helping her as she swiveled gracefully out of the driver's seat. She handed him her keys and strode for the mansion's double doors.<p>

At the door, she whispered her name to the announcer, "Lady Valete Spencer," the announcer had barely enough time to identify her as she strode into the room like she owned it, she as good as owned it, it was her Father's property. The media were the first to recover, swarming at her like fastidious attendants. Her Father rushed to her side to attempt to pry her out from amidst the rabble. His attempts only made them more frantic, they were both high profile figures of a global super-power, With much difficulty she extricated herself with the help of security personnel. By then her Father seemed to recover from the shock of seeing her, her invitation was always implied, he sent her invites but had long accustomed himself to her ignoring or declining the invites.

"Daughter, what a pleasant surprise...to what do I owe this honor?"

"The proper question is to whom and her name is Annette Birkin, you are acquainted and familiar with her husband William?"

"Yes, yes I am. So its on their behest you come out into the light once more? You have starved the media far too long, I've told you to starve is to make them ravenous, you have to throw them a bone every once in a while if you want to keep them at bay."

"Duly noted."

"And you've come without an escort once more."

"I was hoping you might do the honors and spare yourself the effort on my behalf. After all, I am dropping in quite unexpectedly, I'd hate to inconvenience you," she smiled prettily, it was devoid of emotion, empty of any meaning whatsoever."

"I don't know why you bothered coming? I've been speaking to others, others who have been quite persuasive in convincing me that the results of his experiments yield a nice enough show but what use are they?

"What do THEY know about it?" She was aware that their conversation could be under scrutiny and she couldn't make any mention of the illegal research, "Their persuasion is self serving not advisory in nature. That's a role I fill best, after all I am the one with the collective knowledge you need to make the best decision in this case. What we know about William's research is limited and that limitation shows there is much more we have yet to learn and those are things we'll only learn if you continue to fund it. The other research is useful," she conceded, "but, of late, its run itself in repetitive circles. When new discoveries are not forthcoming that tells me the particular strain of research ceases to experience growth that makes it worth funding."

Valete couldn't be sure what impact her words were having upon him, her father's face was as blank but she knew he'd listen. If there was anything he hate, he would hate being 'easy' to manipulate. He'd listen and think things through carefully and if her arguments were better than anyone else's then she'd get what she want. However, she'd made her point and pestering her Father further would serve only to irritate him. She pressed a chaste and liberal kiss upon his cheek, turning back to look back over her shoulder at him, "If you are in town for the weekend, Geneviève and I are available for a visit on Sunday."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, she finally was able to sneak out with Annette Birkin. William had left an hour and a half earlier leaving his wife in need of a ride home. Even though Valete was sure that he had made the right call in bailing the party as soon as possible it was still annoying and more than once Valete felt that William Birkin was in dire need of lessons in social skills and manners.<p>

Annette was in a great mood that would not dampen no matter what she said, "At first I was worried you weren't going to show after all but better late than never especially since you more than delivered. I am positive we'll get our increase and maybe more than what we asked for at that!"

"Don't count your on your budget to increase just yet, my Father prides himself on his executive thinking. He may decide 'to hell' with what I said and decide otherwise just to make a point."

"I doubt that, you commanded the attention of everyone there and especially your Father's," she smiled, "Did you see Anna and Mariano? They were livid and doing everything they could not to show it! They did not want you there; they know that you could beat them at this game. That aside, thank you for taking me home. William just can't stand the parties unless he absolutely has to and with you there he saw no point, you really are the best card we had to play. I hope you will join me inside for a quick coffee. Sherry would be so happy, she has missed you so much."

"I suppose I could stop in for a bit," Valete would have refused Annette if she hadn't mentioned Sherry which was the magic word that would assure her compliance in this. Three years ago when she'd been a lowly assistant that was not to be trusted she'd been an over glorified babysitter for the Birkins, the two of them trusting her with their only child where they didn't trust her with the G virus. What was wrong with that picture? The emotionally impoverished little girl had taken a shine to Valete which had allowed her to eventually earn the trust of both her mother and father.

When they got there she followed Annette inside. William was home, sitting down at the dining room table a half filled coffee cup cradled in his hands.

"Where's Sherry?" she said, feeling uneasy and stupid as it dawned upon her that she was most likely...

"Asleep. Please, sit down, Valete. We must speak with you...privately."

It didn't escape her how they cornered her away from work, this was something that had to be said behind closed doors, and she'd likely be better off if she didn't get involved in whatever it was but her gut told her she couldn't afford to be squeamish, if it had to do with 'G' than she couldn't afford to be ignorant. She sat, in the chair furthest from William. Annette, true to her word, collected two coffee cups and filled them with coffee. She set one down in front of her before taking a seat to William's right.

"Is this about 'G'?"

"Yes, we had to be sure if we could trust you," William paused, "I believe after tonight I can say I do trust you, at long last. You've been loyal."

"What are you planning? And why do you need me?"

"I am going to sell 'G' to the United States government. I made the offer through Annette and they have accepted. We require your assistance to make sure the exchange is feasible and runs smoothly."

Valete wanted to speak plainly but she didn't want to indicate that she was contrary or against William's decision. Was it his to make? She wasn't sure of that, she wasn't even sure where she stood. She was on good terms with the Birkins and on bad terms with her Father, she hated Umbrella's domination of her life but it paid well enough for her to take care of the family that meant so much to her, "Please continue."

"As Head of Viral Security you can make it possible for infiltration and sabotage any retrieval efforts made by Umbrella."

"I could," she acknowledged but wasn't sure if she would just yet, it wasn't a promise nor a denial. She was waiting for William to give her a reason she should acquiesce to his request for her support.

"The United States government has offered a lucrative long-term contract to the study of 'G' and the development of an antivirus for it. If successful, I'd like you to become an associate and colleague to Annette and I, you could study 'G' and reverse engineer an anti-viral agent. We both fulfill the terms of the contract made together."

_And the world will be better off with a cure for everything Umbrella has done. _

It was so tempting. She acted like a pro, giving William and Annette every indication that she was on board and even coming up with a few plausible scenarios for the extraction of 'G' and William but deep down she was reserved. If he had asked her years ago before Kaplan and Veva she would have recklessly been on board and the consequences be damned but now she was a wife and mother. Her family was supported by Umbrella and could be destroyed by them just as easily. At the least she and Kaplan would both be out of work, in the worst 'best case scenario' her family could be seized and killed in outright retaliation, in the absolute worse case scenario her family could be seized, subjected to experimentation, and never be found again. With her family the hostage for her good behavior, could she do the right thing? And just what was the right thing to do in this case?


	6. Indirect Mariticide

**A/N: **Mariticide means 'murder of one's husband'

* * *

><p><strong>May 1998 –<strong>

**Zero Hour HIVE Outbreak**

**Less Than 1 Month before Arklay Mansion Outbreak**

**4 Months before Raccoon City Outbreak**

* * *

><p>Kaplan woke up, his eyes shifting over to the alarm clock where the digital display flashed 3:43 AM. He groaned quietly in exasperation, not sure if he'd be able to go back to sleep and if he did would it be worth it when he had less than two hours left before he had to get up and get ready. A soft moan sounded out of the darkness accompanied by a sleepy sigh of his name, "Kap?"<p>

Instinctively his arms reached out, to seek out his wife's presence, his arms curled around her waist bringing her gently against his warmth, "Shhhh," his lip pressed gently against her neck – her soft spot, the place that gave her pleasure. He was pleased to note that the next sound was not a sleep murmur but of a soft moan of pleasure. He felt desire rising in him and he pressed himself against her. Beneath the sheets his hand sought out her feminine anatomy and then he heard it. Another sound, shrill and demanding, it took him a moment to identify it as his cell phone. With a curse, he flung off the covers and went to retrieve it. He silenced it with a swift push of the answer key and brought it to his ear.

"Kaplan," he said, identifying himself and he was grateful for the fact he didn't sound groggy and disoriented when he heard who was on the other line. One, his superior, the commanding officer of Alpha Team of the U.S.F.

"Kaplan, I need you in the office as soon as possible. You'll be debriefed in once you are here in the office. Move it."

"Yes, sir."

When he turned back to the bed, he saw Valete sitting up upon the mattress, the sheet covering her naked body. Her gaze was inquisitive, questioning, he spoke, "I have to go in early," he bent down to give her a lingering kiss and immediately double timed it through his shower and dressing. When he came out, Valete was gone. He found her in the kitchen where she'd made him some toast and coffee. He thanked her with a kiss, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, a smile curved at her lips, "We'll continue tonight."

The memory of his seduction and its instant deflation thanks to One's call came back to mind but he smiled, "Most definitely."

That was the last time he'd ever see her.

* * *

><p>The problem was more serious than he could've imagined. A top secret Umbrella Research Center, the Hive, had been sealed and its employees killed when the Hive's guardian, the Red Queen, went homicidal. For hours, One made him attempt to break through the Queen's grip, to find out just what went so, so wrong but he wasn't able to touch her. After three hours of ineffectual attempts, One reported to the Director of Operations, Cain, who gave the go-ahead to call in the rest of the team for an attempt to break her hold via direct assault on the Hive. They'd have to collect intelligence with their own eyes and ears if they wanted answers. By 10 AM they were armed and ready to go after the rest of the team was debriefed.<p>

"Kaplan, a moment please," One took him aside, "I think it is only fair to warn you that this incidence has not inspired confidence in the Head of Security for Research & Development. Departments are looking to cast blame and in this case it falls easily upon..."

"Valete. It convenient to make her your scapegoat..."

"Since the Red Queen's initial activation she is the only one who has had access to make changes. That said I need to know if she has ever told you anything at all, tell me no matter how inconsequential it may seem."

"I have nothing I can tell you, she's never told me a single thing about her work. Sir, I thank you for the warning but I am ready to get going with the debrief," Kaplan clenched his fist, trying hard to unwind the uneasy feeling settling within his gut. It had always been understood that Spencer merely tolerated their marriage and it had always been built upon the expectation that there would be a wall of secrecy when it came to the specifics of their individual employments within Umbrella. For the first time it felt wrong, One's request for intel seemed so rational. Clearly he had expected him to know specifics despite the rules, specifics that Valete had never shared and rules that she had never broken. For a couple so happily married it was clear that his superior had expected more trust and truth to exist between them and he wondered if his boss was right in that expectation. Perhaps...when they got back, he'd ask and he sure hoped she'd love him enough, trust him enough to answer.

He sat down next to Drew and J.D. when Operations Director Cain came in, "Well, its been a long time since last time but it looks like the Head of Security for Research & Development has dropped the ball, made a mess that we have to clean up," before he could stop himself, Kaplan was starting to rise out of his seat. Something which hadn't escaped his teammates, both of whom were confused as they attempted to guide him back into his seat.

"Sir," One began, "I told you, one of my operatives is married to THE Head of Security for Research & Development."

The team's confusion was alleviated in an instant, understanding that a crack had been made at his spouse did much to explain his volatile reaction. Some continued to look at him in shock, many of them had assumed that he was a bachelor, not married nor interested in dating. Drew himself had offered to set Kaplan up multiple times and he knew this interesting tidbit of news would be back to bite him in the ass after the mission. The males of the team would grill him about his secretive spouse and why he had hid her for so long. However, his reaction had been taken by his team it had given him the desired response - the rest of the debriefing was run more formally and great care was taken to prevent further insult.

Immediately after the debriefing while others prepared to fly out he looked at his desk feeling pressured to write something to explain what they were doing, which was stupid but he couldn't shake the idea that he should put something. None of the missions they undertook were easy and what if one day he didn't come back, what would be left for Valete or Genevieve. He pulled out a paper and hastily composed a note.

_Valete, _

_I know you probably will never end up reading this note but I feel like I should write it regardless. We're heading out in ten minutes to resolve a problem in the laboratories beneath the Arklay Mansion. I am confident we will be fine though I am betting this mission will make my return home very late indeed. Today I put in a request for leave in the second week of July to take the two special ladies of my life on a vacation you two will never forget. Genevieve, you are as lovely as your mother and I deeply love you both. _

_Kaplan_

Satisfied with the hasty drabble, he half tucked it beneath the monitor of his workstation before running to the helipad to join the rest of his team.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?" Olga Danilova gazed at her younger sister who had entered the room as the debriefing started. No one had chose to dispute her presence there, "Omega Team isn't even on standby. Go home."<p>

Fayth like her sister had traditional Russian features: she was tale, pale, and dark. She stood at a solid 5'9'' tall, her skin was pale against the black uniform she donned, and her dark black hair was bound tightly in a ponytail. Her arms were crossed, she hadn't made a move to leave, a gesture that was indicative of her stubbornness, "We're your back up. I'm here to find out what's going on in case we go in after you."

"Your concern is noted but unnecessary, Cain hasn't even put Omega on stand by. , We'll be back before you know it."

Olga passed her sister, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder for the briefest of touches while working up her resolve for a bigger display of affection than her restraint would allow. Finally she worked up the nerve and pressed a soft kiss against her sister's cheek and left before Fayth could recover and protest.

* * *

><p>For Kaplan that was only the beginning of his long morning, at first the mission went smoothly at was to be expected. They were the U.S.F.'s Alpha Team, the best that Umbrella had to offer which was saying something for a company that accepted nothing but the best in all things. Frankly Kaplan wouldn't have been surprised if even the janitors had credentials though he wasn't sure what those would be. On the way in, the worst problem they had to deal with was finding a detour around the flooded labs, a move which cost them time but even that was bearable until things got worse. None of them had known what was going on, they had all believed that the Red Queen had been compromised, that someone had interfered with her and caused the tragic catastrophe in the Hive but not a one of them had thought they'd suffer 100% causalities. Olga Danilova, their medic, was the first to be offed and if she'd been spared it likely would have been a different story. Panic swept through him as he feverishly tried to decrypt the Red Queen's defenses, defenses his wife had given her while she used a weapon his wife created to kill his team. Valete had been thorough, too through and even after he was sure the Level 5 Weapon System was disabled he still looked down that hallway like it was a gauntlet that would mean his death. Would he die down here, die at the hands of product his wife had co-created and the quarantine protocols she devised?<p>

Then he'd done it, he accomplished the mission, and though his teammates were never coming back their deaths would not have been in vain. He'd been wrong on all counts. The shut down of the Red Queen was not a simple 'mission accomplished' but rather was the beginning of a new mission altogether – the survival of the remainder of the team. Though dead, killed by the psychotic computer, his teammates didn't stay dead. In fact the whole goddamned Hive, all five hundred and twenty three employees, where up and walking around and it was all his fault for releasing them in the first place. Not that he had time to dwell on that, to dwell on how the mission had gone from manageable to fucked up to FUBAR as quickly as it took to blink an eye.

What the hell had research and development been doing down here? They, if the walking dead could be referred to as anything but 'it', defied all logic. The Red Queen had killed everyone but they were moving, the dead didn't move but they were dead and did move. His mind didn't want to accept what his eyes were telling him but he found out quickly that he didn't have the novelty of denial if he wanted to survive this. Kaplan had to admit that amongst the confusion he was pissed, pissed at his wife. How could she have kept a secret like this?. Deep down he'd always been confident that he knew her, been confident that she was a good person who would put the needs of many before the desires of a few but here she guarded a secret that endangered a massive and unsuspecting public for the gain of a few. This didn't change everything, this betrayal of trust didn't make him stop loving her but it definitely had its impact, it was a blow to be weathered. He wished he had learned about this from her rather than find out like this, it was like she lied to him in not divulging the truth to him through all these years of marriage.

He banished the thought to the back of his mind, he had quite enough to think about without thinking of Valete and the mixed feelings brought on by the thought of her. The things or 'zombies' for lack of better term did not take well to death a second and final time. It could easily take half a clip of ammunition to bring down one, there were too damn many. Though they lost a few of their number they were forced to head back the way they came. Frazzled by nerves, he was unable to remember and input the code forcing J.D. to step in. He could not help but be shamefully relieved of this change of roles when they found what was waiting – a horde of the mindless, hungry automatons. Again they were forced to move to avoid being cornered and eaten alive and this time took sanctuary in the Queen's Chamber.

Eventually what remained of the living gathered together and after coming to the painful realization that their only hope of escaping relied upon the very reason they were down here to begin with – the Red Queen. Though she was committed to containing the outbreak self-preservation won out and she helped them most reluctantly. Guiding them out through the utility tunnels gave them a brief respite but eventually the zombies found them down there too. Was there no place safe? Not likely until they sealed the Hive shut behind them. He was sure as hell ready to until he got bit. The Red Queen had warned them:

_One bite, one scratch is sufficient, and then you become one of them. _

That made things really clear and left absolutely no room for misunderstanding. It was only a matter of time for Rain who had been the first to sport a bite to the hand. Surrounded once more, they were forced to climb up and in mid-climb one of the zombies latched on to his leg, biting deeply into the flesh, arms grasping to pull him back down into her hungry embrace. Only the efforts of the others helped him make his way up and as he limped on the utility lines he knew he wasn't going to get out. The Red Queen was right – they were all going to die down here. Even if they did make it he couldn't go back above, endangering Valete and Veva and countless others. Under the weight of everyone the pipes broke and when he was stranded he finally made a decision – to stay behind and stall the pursuers so the others could get away.

He ejected the bullets out of the pistol, he was looking down at a handful of empties and then he saw it – a single round, "That's lucky," he said bleakly. He'd be able to buy the others time to escape, put himself under, and be sure in the fact that with a bullet in his brain he'd not be coming back ever. He loaded it, the bullet being rotated into the chamber as he placed the muzzle of the gun inside his mouth. He was just about to pull the trigger when he thought of them and his nerve to commit suicide fell through completely only to be replaced by a resolve, a resolve to survive the Hive, to survive its homicidal Queen and the undead drones haunting its hallways.

Catching up with the others took time, a majority of them were uninjured but they had Rain who was injured enough by three wounds to be a liability, maybe enough of one that he could catch up. Confident that he had the means to bully the Red Queen into a continual alliance he worked his way up floor by floor only to be denied when he caught up with them. The Red Queen had them ideally trapped and was holding the escape of the uninfected hostage to her demand for the death of Rain. Unwilling to open the door and provide them to escape while infected, she also refused his demand for the door to be opened for him to rejoin them. Seeing her as obsolete now that they were so close, it was without regrets that he truly fried her this time around. He happily put an end to her with the push of a button. With the power cut, the others were freed and just in time.

Something massive crashed through one of the reinforced windows. From what he had seen of it, it looked like a saber tooth tiger that had been skinned but still alive, its body showed its lean muscles and elongated skeletal structure. Clearly reinforced glass and doors were no match for it, its claws raking horrid looking furrows in the reinforced steel.

"What the fuck is THAT?!"

"It's a long story!"

A story that he wanted to know less and less about, the more he found out about the Hive, the less he wanted to ask. In all truth, he was becoming more and more sure that if he EVER saw his wife again he'd kiss her before asking her the painful truths she'd kept from him that he'd uncovered down here. If one good thing came out of the others it was finding out that there was a cure. Internally his heart soared at the idea that they were going to survive and get out and he'd not have to become a monster. It was easy to endure the pain of the antivirus injection administered clumsily by the medically inexperienced, all that mattered was it was injected soon enough to be infected. At the controls, he got the train going as fast as he could without making it jump the rails but it wasn't fast enough.

The Red Queen's revenge was swift, with ease the claws ripped off the door and before he could evade it he felt the crush of bone and the flow of blood and then nothing at all.

* * *

><p>She waited for him faithfully but he did not come that evening or the next day. Instantly she feared the worse and with good reason, there had never been any force that could keep Kaplan from her but what was at Umbrella's disposal certainly could. What kind of mess had they sent him into after calling him from their bed and her arms? Unable to concentrate while she contemplated his fate she called into work and took off the entire day, a first for her. She'd missed hours but never an entire day but the reaction seemed appropriate considering her emotional instability at his absence. Then the black car came and with it, the instinctive knowledge that he would never return. The figure was dressed in black, his stature and posture indicative of military training in his past. His hair was blond and it wasn't until he took off his shades that she recognized him – he was the Director of Operations, Timothy Cain.<p>

"Director Cain," her voice was dead, like lying with her husband wherever his cold grave was, she couldn't summon the emotion to greet him with the civility of her station.

For a moment he was uncomfortable, clearly unsure how to greet her. She was not a Ms. nor a Mrs., when she had married she had not adopted her husband's name but kept her own. Uncertain how to address her he said quietly, "Lady Valete," gracing her with a title similar to the one her Father donned, "You are far too bright to know me to be here for happy tidings. It is with great regret that I come her to announce the death of your spouse. The company and I extend our condolences."

"Few widows greet those sent to console them with open arms. I know I certainly do not but I have things I must ask even if I may not receive the answers I seek. Did you get what you sent him down for?"

"No, no I did not."

A brief pause, "I know that something happened down there, it is my job to know. I don't know the specifics but whatever the Red Queen did, she would not do without reason, compelling logical reasons. Do NOT reopen the Hive; let whatever happened down there run its course. Six months should be enough for even the most resilient research down there to burn out. Be patient and wait for your answers. I assure you the time spent waiting will haunt those left behind like me more than they will you."

Cain was caught up in a gale of jealousy; Kaplan had been talented but limited and uninspired, well paid but just another common man out of many. This woman had been far above him in social status and demeanor and has wasted seven years of her life in marriage to him and all the while never knew anything better. If he didn't intervene he could see it playing out again, he could see her marrying another unremarkable man and living an unremarkable life when capable of much more. Valete wasn't a bad catch; she would be a good and heavily contested match in the marriage market. She was only 24, the mother of a single child, and had a decent chance of one day inheriting the company her Father ran. He was fully prepared to act and 'put his foot in the door' to keep it open, he couldn't let their acquaintance end here at this sordid occasion, he had to make sure they had reason to 'cross paths' in the future.

"I knew your husband," a lie, "I handpicked him to be on that team because of his abilities," the truth, "We have no body but I'd like to be there for you, as a friend,,, when you place him to rest."

Her deep set, light blue eyes rose in surprise and made contact with his, they look so innocent but in an instant they were hardened by the grief harbored in their depths but she surprised him by giving a regal nod of assent before rising from her seat, "It will nice to have an escort when I come into his world, the only thing we shared was Genevieve and each other. I don't know his life outside and it will be convenient to have a guide through that which is unfamiliar. Do not feel slighted but good bye. I need time...before Genevieve gets home."

As she departed Cain could not keep his eyes off her slender legs and imagining what it would be like to be between them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know that Kaplan's POV was kind of dry but I felt like it would skipping over the events leading up to the Arklay and Raccoon City outbreaks. Next chapter up in a few days...I hope.


	7. A Marriage of Convenience

**June 1998 –**

**1 Month after the Arklay Mansion Outbreak**

**4 Months til Raccoon City Oubtreak**

* * *

><p>"Accept," though her Father was an ocean away, she could feel the pressured over the phone. Never mind that she'd been trying to explain that even though the match was ideal, the timing was not. Her Father could not seem to wrap his mind around her grief at Kaplan's loss any more than he could have wrapped his mind around why she'd been content in her match with Kaplan. That certainly wasn't the case with Operations Director Timothy Cain.<p>

The body had never been recovered but since she'd laid him to rest at a memorial Cain had been pressing himself into every bit of her life he could: he visited her frequently at work whether he had cause or not, he invited her out often doing so in such a way that she could scarcely refuse short of being rude, and even showed at her house though she'd try to make it clear she didn't much care for his presence in her personal life. He was charming enough but there was something about him that rang false, he didn't seem to be the genuine issue as Kaplan did.

Cain was attractive but that wasn't enough for her. She supposed her real problem with him was that he worked relentlessly to get what he wanted, was well accustomed to getting what he wanted, and in this case he wanted her. To make matters worse he pressed for every advantage he had and in this case he had the approval of her Father, "I'll talk to you later. I've got to get back to work."

As she pressed the End Call button on the touch screen she reflected upon the fact that she had more pressing things to worry about than her social life and a stalker – bizarre murders were happening in and around Raccoon City. Her eyes intently scoured the pages of the newspaper she just bought for details but a few moments later she sighed in disgust, the reports were grossly inept for her to make a proper evaluation. She threw the paper on the desk where it landed on top of another paper dated three weeks previous.

_Cannibalistic murders?_

Well she knew far too many creations that fit that bill.

Despite the poor speculations and lack of details she had her worst suspicions confirmed. Something had been leaked in the Hive, the Red Queen had reacted hastily but failed to respond following the crisis, and Cain had, against her advice and wishes, released something bad. Maybe she'd take that lunch date after all, it would give them time to have a little chat. She reached for her phone and started dialing his number, he didn't answer and the voicemail came right on which was fine for her, "Hey Cain," she crossed her legs gracefully beneath her desk, "I think I'll be open for the luncheon date after all. 12:30 at Rosetti's"

Then she hung up confident that he'd make it, he wouldn't dare not, standing her up would be a fatal flaw after all his efforts to court her to this date and time. It was currently 9:00 AM much to early to leave but she wasn't much in the mood for work. She gently pressed her teeth against her lower lip, biting into it softly as she thought what to do in the interim and finally decided to concentrate her energies towards planning her interrogation of Cain concerning operations involving the Hive but first, she thought she'd take a peek around the Mansion for herself.

* * *

><p>To date, Cain had never been on time nor early for that matter so it surprised her to see he had not only received her message but also responded to it promptly. Their table was partially hidden from view by a swath of curtain and as she approached she noticed why. Her Father sat shielded from view by the cloth; she instantly stiffened in surprise and tried not to feel angered at being the last to know he was stateside. She recovered, masking her displeasure as he proffered his hand to her; she took it in her own and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Rigidly she took her seat, "Father...I didn't know you were in town."<p>

"I had business to attend to with Cain but when he mentioned he had a lunch engagement with you I decided to stay a bit longer."

"I see," she was far from surprised that his business took precedence over his family.

"Valete, have you made a decision concerning 'us'?"

She had not. He'd privately proposed to her over a week ago and it had been a good thing for his ego that he had so he hadn't been forced to weather rejection on a publically humiliating scale. Since then she'd been weighing pros and cons and not liking how they matched up, not liking the odds enough to give him an affirmative answer. Frankly she was wondering if her Father had been brought in to personally stress the advantages of the match, "I haven't actually."

"Which is beyond me," Spencer said, "the match speaks for itself in more ways than one. For the family, we gain a powerful ally. For you, you gain stability, wealth, and influence. For Genevieve, a Father figure. For the media, a bone to pick at besides these 'cannibalistic murderers', and last but not least it serves a purpose for the masses, these murderers can be put to rest more readily if security," he reached for her hand, "and operations," he reached for Cain, "worked intimately hand and hand, combining their efforts to obtain a shared objective."

Furious that she could not shoot down his argument she still didn't assent immediately but she didn't rip her hand away either though she desperately wanted to. Cain's thumb was stroking over her skin, a gesture that made her shiver in revulsion that he mistook for pleasure, a smile slid into place on his face. She was so tempted to say no, right then and there and fling his proposal into his fact at long last. It would definitely give her smug satisfaction but then she would have turned down all the benefits the match could bring. To reject the match was ultimately selfish.

Frankly she knew the public was uneasy and could use a diversion from the grisly murders plaguing the area and she could definitely make use of it to gain some breathing room. This crisis would be solved much quicker if they worked in unison, they'd save time and energy, be able to share their collective resources, and use their individual skills efficiently. Though Cain was far from the perfect role model for Veva, he was far from the worse. That was the most compelling reason, deep down; it was for the public she decided to marry. Besides she could reap the benefits in the present and later decide to divorce if she so chose and premarital agreements were wonderful things, she could limit what he could get before the marriage even could take place.

Exhaling, she nodded, it was a barely noticeable movement but Cain had his eyes fixated on her so intently that he wouldn't have missed it. He reached in his pocket and proffered her a ring, sliding the cold, bare gold into place on her left finger until it hit another ring. In sharp contrast, this one was silver and ornate in color and design. Interlaced webs of silver branched over a small ovular opal fixing it in place upon the ring; another band given to her on her wedding day was fixed with two diamonds that cradled the opal between them. Cain reached for the ring which was offensive in nature because it represented the claim that a dead man had previously held. Before she could stop herself, she spoke up in a commanding tone, "Don't!" and before he could recover she pulled her hand away, eyeing the golden circlet with the same distaste she reserved for Cain.

Cain recovered hastily, "I can't wait for our marriage."

"Excuse me," her Father rose from his place, leaving them alone, the tension in the air was almost thick enough to walk on.

Valete gazed at her plate, no longer even remotely hungry, "My lawyer will be in touch by the end of the day. He will give you a proper understanding of my assets and see to the drafting of the premarital agreement."

"Premarital agreement? Surely that isn't necessary..."

"Oh but it is, I have issue with a prior spouse, an issue which is due to inherit before any second spouse. You don't have to sign but you will if you want this marriage. Refuse to sign if you wish, your refusal won't upset me a bit after all it is you and my Father that wants this marriage."

Cain looked at her coldly, "I see you make sure that there is no misunderstanding where your feelings lie."

"No, misunderstandings are most inconvenient and are borne of lapses in communication which brings me to why I am here. What did you not understand about my advice concerning the Hive? All you had to do was be patient, in six months you would have been able to have your answers without compromising the public. Now we have this," she slapped pictures on the table, fresh from being privately developed. Things had been worse than she had thought; she'd not made it very far into the mansion before she'd been forced to leave due to her lack of escort. Not that it mattered, being bitten wouldn't adversely affect her when she was injected with the T virus on a quarterly basis but she had felt it prudent to get out while she could. Those infected would feed off one another if they had to but if 'living fare' was present they'd definitely prefer feeding off the living thus she'd left after getting the evidence she wanted for this very confrontation.

Cain looked half caught between shock, rage, dismay, and fear. No doubt her Father would be livid if he found out she'd been able to go to the mansion without his knowing or proper protection. Spencer would also be hot if he saw these pictures, this evidence out in the open. Cain reached to gather the pictures up but Valete retrieved them first, her eyes demanding answers but he countered with a question of his own, "What were you doing on the mansion grounds? ALONE? WITHOUT PROTECTION?!"

"It is family property, MY property in fact if you've ever read the deed. It is not trespassing."

"It is trespassing if you are unwelcome there!"

"Am I unwelcomed? Why would I be unwelcome? Pray tell!" with no answer forthcoming she reverted back to her previous line of questioning and he yielded reluctant answers knowing there was no way to dissuade her and very much preferring to finish this conversation before her Father came back, "How many made it out?"

Cain responded swiftly, thought she was grilling him hard, he didn't look too intimidated. No doubt he had to answer to her Father earlier and he was much higher up than she, "Not many, a majority of them we were able to keep contained within the Arklay Mansion which we lost altogether."

"The casualty rate? How many employees were lost? Did any get out?"

"No, it was 100% loss but that was considered acceptable and preferable to the alternative of an outbreak beyond the mansion."

"Oh but there is an outbreak beyond the mansion, one that hasn't been as well contained as you thought," she slammed the newspapers down next the titles bold print jumping off the page: one read _Bizarre Murders Committed In Raccoon City_, and the other read _Horror In Raccoon! More Victims Dead_, Two of the first victims had been two little girls with their whole lives ahead of them and two little girls who reminded her too much of little Veva. She blinked back the tears threatening to come, her eyes simmering with barely controlled rage in place of tears she refused to shed, "100% loss and its ALL, YOUR, FAULT!"

"It is no issue, life is cheap, and we can easily replace the labor lost."

"That is besides the point, there would've been NO losses had you listened to me," she hissed but frankly she could see this conversation was pointless, it was clear he wasn't likely to accept personal responsibility for any of the individuals lost, he obviously didn't care, period.

* * *

><p>All in all, despite the loss of the Hive and Arklay laboratories, he was pleased with the days work. Getting Valete to agree to a second marriage had been crucial to his plans to resolve these loose ends though Spencer had other reasons for pushing the match as well – he wanted a reliable pair of eyes on Research &amp; Development. Based on the recent reports William's paranoia seemed to be getting worse and worse, it would be all for the better if someone would keep their eyes on William Birkin and his 'G' Project. The preferred candidate for this role had always been Valete but of late doubt had been cast upon her too. After working with the Birkins for years he sometimes doubted the loyalty of 'Valete'. Though the AI was programmed to be loyal he didn't blindly trust that would keep him safe from betrayal. More often than not, she did too well a job at portraying Valete and appeared to take on more of her host's rebellious tendencies than desired. Cain would report if anything were amiss.<p>

To his relief he'd been right to assume that the AI would calculate and agree to a reduction in secrecy to bring a swift end to the outbreak. Hopefully this reduction would be enough to give Cain and his operatives the ideal opening to keep William and Annette Birkin in line. It had also crossed his mind to offer William the incentive of more guards to keep his research safe but he knew that Birkin would be unlikely to welcome in newcomers especially armed newcomers. It had taken Valete years to infiltrate and be admitted into William's inner circle and even that had been a stroke of luck. No, for now, he'd have to be satisfied that Valete had given him even a small opening.

The AI was the other reason he'd pushed the match, he wanted eyes on the Empress especially now. He hadn't yet told Cain the truth about Valete, he still wasn't sure he trusted him enough for that but if any vestige of the Empress remained it might make Valete act strange. At the time of her implantation the Empress was a blank slate but she'd kept her quarantine protocols. At the time it seemed like a good idea until he'd seen what the Red Queen did. Then he saw that the elevated instincts of an AI could be dangerous and the Empress more so because she had a body and was among the public. Perhaps she'd outlived her usefulness; perhaps it was time to think about recalling her for good.

* * *

><p>Lunch was a strangely somber affair for being an engagement celebration. Valete mainly pushed her food around her plate until finally the waiters came back around to collect the dishes. She rose and barely took three steps before she realized that there was a media circus out front and froze in place, not wanting to confront it but knowing there was no way to avoid it. Cain took her hand in his and she looked at him, he spoke in a low tone, "We might as well get it over with, they're going to find out sooner or later."<p>

With a sinking feeling in her gut, she kept her hand in his – a false image of solidarity and smiled her fake smile as if nothing could please her more than to relish the attention they were giving her.

That evening, in the dead of night, she took the vows of marriage a second time. It was exactly like her marriage to Kaplan except for the fact she couldn't associate this wedding as giving her the happiness that her first had. It was in the same place, the ceremony read by the same judge, she wore similar clothes, and even had the same witness. Annette stood by her, a perpetual scowl radiating her discontent at the news. This wedding represented a change in how things would be done and it wasn't to her liking or William's to let in another unproven outsider. Kaplan had been ignorant and thus was never a threat to their plans. To most in the company this gesture would be reassuring but Annette could only fear, all it took was one misstep and everything would be ruined for them both, for them all.

After the ceremony Annette joined Valete who stood by herself outside the church, her eyes were distant as if she was somewhere far from the present. Annette could only guess what she felt like, she'd never lost William the way Valete had Kaplan, "He is living with you?"

"Yes," her tone was flat, "it's the best way to resolve this quickly. I cannot say that I expect this marriage to last beyond stopping the outbreak. The union was made for a purpose and when that is done then it will be over."

"Have you had time enough to think on our proposal?"

"I have and I have made a decision. I will not hinder you but I will not help you either. You may go your separate way if you manage to fight your way out on your own power."

"I see," it had not been what she'd been hoping for but it was better than finding out that they'd made a bad bet altogether. Their secret would be safe with Valete, her decision was disappointing but Annette could understand her motivation. Kaplan was dead now and she'd not risk Genevieve, which was all she had left of him, for 'G'.

* * *

><p><em>Sixteen Years<em>, _Sixteen LONG Years._

With a company like Umbrella and the kind of dealings it made it was only a matter of time before something strange came up and he'd been waiting a long time. Sixteen years ago, Devlyn come to Raccoon City, a law enforcement officer fresh from the Academy and there he had stayed, rejecting many lucrative transfers to other locales. Here he had settle for a long surveillance, here he'd taken a partner, and here he waited to unravel the lies that Umbrella built their successes upon.

Thirty-five years ago, his parents, George and Jessica Trevor, and his sister, Lisa had all vanished in a Mansion outside the city crafted by his own Father. Obsessed with their disappearance and Umbrella's inability to explain it he'd become determined to find out the truth whatever the cost, a personal crusade which led him from a life of privilege at his ancestral home in England, to immigrate to America, and get a job in law enforcement. Many times he'd been sorely tempted to leave his post but things had happened to intensify his resolve over the years.

The first happened eight years ago, after having spent eight years attempting to gain access to the Arklay Mansion and being denied vehemently, an anonymous individual had contacted him, giving him intel and clues. Inevitably, Umbrella was too through and after a time the clues stopped altogether. It was entirely possible that Umbrella had intimidated the informant but considering their history he was more apt to suspect foul play. An anonymous death that he felt obligated to solve even though he didn't know whom they were. The fruits of the exchange stood before him: maps and floor plans of the Arklay mansion, schematics and topography of the ground surrounding the estate, and correspondence exchanged between them hinting at more selective knowledge that would be exchanged if he could extract the individual to safety - a failure that haunted him to this day especially now when strange things were happening and more innocent victims were dying for his failure.

A built replica of the mansion stood on the table before him, built by him in his obsession, and currently scrutinized by his partner Zayn Malek, "I know it has to do with them, it has to. All crimes scenes are within or not far from the vicinity, it's like the mansion is the point of origin or perhaps even the base of whomever or whatever is doing this."

From the beginning he and Zayn had been assigned to investigate the murders, Irons had professed faith in them but seemed to do everything in his power to cripple their efforts or stop them altogether. It didn't help that Zayn couldn't get along with Irons and often pissed him off to the point that they'd be lucky to get any help. The young spitfire had a mercurial temper and made no secret that he hated the 'Chief Prick' or of his suspicions that he was being bought by Umbrella. Zayn had a lot to learn unlike Devlyn who had the wealth of experience or at least enough to know that politics had a place in their occupation as well. Zayn didn't have the patience to play politics and often it was Devlyn's efforts that kept Zayn from losing his job at the RPD altogether.

Recognizing that the mansion was positioned close to all the murders had begun a linear relationship back to Umbrella, a fact that didn't surprise him in the least. The Mansion, built in 1967, belonged to Lord Ozwell E. Spencer but the deed was currently titled to his daughter, Valete A. Spencer. It was obviously intended to be a part of her portion of the massive inheritance she was likely to one day inherit even though her Father seemed far from being ready to die in spite of his advancing age. This had led him and Zayn to desire to speak with Valete Spencer concerning her property and its proximity to their crime scenes, the logic behind their desire was easy to understand but Irons had instantly forbidden them to speak to her and threatened their jobs if they were within 50 meters of her with the intent to do so. Zayn was quite determined to speak with her and the consequences be damned but Devlyn wasn't so willing, he wanted to solve the murders but not at the expense of his job and the valuable resources it offered him to use against Umbrella.

"And we're going to be at a dead end if we don't question her. Damn it, Devlyn, we have to or these cases will go cold just like any other case against Umbrella. At least let me do surveillance, if I see anything suspicious then we'll be able to bring her in for good reason."

"No reason is going to be good enough to hold her EVER. She is the daughter of Umbrella's founder, whatever snare we make legally it will never be enough, they'll get her out of it, Umbrella's legal team is the best."

"That still doesn't change the fact that if we don't move, we'll never get anywhere."

"Are you willing to bet your job to make that move?"

"Yes."

Devlyn sighed; truly exasperated at Zayn but knowing he had no room to speak. Once upon a time he'd been so determined and now here he was stunted by his years of weathering Iron's political bullshit. Maybe Zayn was right, to solve these cases politics had to go out the window altogether along with caring what Irons did or thought.

"I doubt I can really stop you at this point, I've never met her before so I don't know what to expect of Valete Spencer but whatever you do, tread carefully around her. Also we have no evidence tying her to any of this personally, treat her gently. I don't want to have to fight a harassment suit."

* * *

><p><em>Valete Spencer...<em>

Zayn took the file and flipped it open, the file told only the bare minimum that could be gleaned from graduation records, employment records, birth and death certificates, and marriage licenses. She immigrated to America in 1986 at age 12 against her Father's wishes, was employed privately for four years. In 1990 she was employed by Umbrella and worked for them since then. In December 1990 she was married to a Bartholomew Kaplan, six months later a single daughter, Genevieve Spencer, was born. More recently, her spouse had died in May this year and she'd remarried recently a few short days ago in June 1998.

How cold...her husband newly buried and she'd already moved onward to the next order of business. To be honest he marveled at the length of her first marriage, she'd been married longer than most couples nowadays though he doubted it would have last much longer even if the husband had lived.

To date, she had no criminal record...yet. She also had three degrees in Computer Science, Law, and Biochemistry, which he considered an odd, if not ironic, choice. Biochemistry especially seemed to be an odd fit, at the very least Computer Science and Law fit together. Biochemistry stood out like a sore thumb and he wondered what she did with it, was she a scientist in addition to be a hacker or something? This story seem to get better and better as he read it. NOT!

He closed the file; having memorized everything the first time he read it over. Now he just had to find a good way to corner her without make her feel threatened and wondered if there was any way to make her come to him. Maybe pose as a sympathetic individual, her husband's death had been plastered all over the media and she'd dutifully portrayed herself as the typical widow in mourning, dressed in black and properly disconsolate with grief. Right...she couldn't have been too grieved considering she just celebrated her second nuptial mere days before. Dev was through like that; he always had the most up to date information.

Valete was a high profile target and would have been impossible to tail initially if not for her child. Within the week he had a general read on her schedule which included seeing her daughter to and from school and working the overnight and day times, evenings were spent at home where she appeared to relish a domestic life with her girl but eventually Valete slipped up and he got the opening he'd been hoping for, a conversation in a local café.

* * *

><p>"You're late," she declared, finishing her coffee and waving off the waiter who came to fill her cup. The coffee shop was bustling with activity but that was preferable. Where there was silence there was room to listen in, noise assured some level of secrecy because voices blended in and cut off conversations.<p>

"Why did you contact me? Our work is totally unrelated," she had to give Fayth credit, she did an excellent job of blending with the crowd almost to the point where she'd be unrecognizable to even her at first glance.

"I know that."

"Then why did you call me here?"

"To find out if you know that yourself? You're becoming a frequent enough hack to be a bother to me, I have enough on my hands without adding your clumsily intrusive attempts to collect answers."

"You can't keep a wrap on things forever, if you can't figure out what happened then perhaps someone else should take a stab at it. I'll find out the truth of what happened sooner or later."

"I will find out what happened, it's MY job not yours. You are putting your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Like where?"

Valete leaned forward, "MY work, you won't find answers in my work. Believe me, I am looking for the answers myself. I am the one being discredited for her malfunctioning."

Fayth sneered, her voice laced with disgust," So you're looking for answers to clear your name?"

"Don't think you're the only one who lost someone. I lost my husband and my daughter lost her father. The least I can do is find answers for her. What I'm saying is – stay out of my work and I'll get you your answers. Deal?

"What are you hiding?"

"I'm hiding nothing. I'll really get it if the Security Division finds out what Research & Development is doing."

"What are they hiding?"

"As I said, the information is CLASSIFIED. Good bye."

* * *

><p>Valete rose and as she walked by him, Zayn was tempted to confront her right then and there. A month ago, the vague mention of an 'incident', the murders had started a month ago. Had something happened within Umbrella and then branched out to impact the surrounding area? Deep down he felt like time was of the essence but knew he should probably take what he found to Devlyn, he'd know what to do and usually his levelheaded decisions yielded better results though he'd never admit that out loud.<p>

* * *

><p>First contact was made the next day, at the indoor shooting range. Devlyn was processing what intel he had collected the previous day on their subject. Zayn was surprised to see her there when he went for his daily target practice but recovered quickly. Valete Spencer stood out, obviously inexperienced but she must've been competent enough to get her license, she had to have it to shoot her guns here. Gun cases and boxes of ammo were at her station and he wondered if she was borrowing what she was shooting, "Whose are those?"<p>

His voice startled her out of her concentration and was half convinced she'd turn and end up shooting him by accident. Zayn was relieved when he heard the click of a safety before she turned completely, her eyes taking him in from top to bottom, "Mine, they were my husband's but they're registered to me now."

In turn, he looked her up and down, though his eyes lingered leisurely on her his eyes were far from rakish. At the completion of his internal assessment he said what first came to mind, not bothering to filter his words to protect her ego, "You're pretty lightweight, more suited to an office than to arms."

"How chauvinistic," she sounded like she was uninterested in his personal opinion, and her face was scornful. Great, he'd stepped on her feminine pride. His lapse in response giving her the opportunity to turn back to her target, carefully lining her eye along the sight as she tried to remember Kaplan's very distant lessons. He'd always tried to teach her self-defense but between their schedules it had been hard to find the time and when Veva had come along they'd given up altogether. Now she regretted that, she should have tried harder, should've made time even if it meant going lax on her work.

"So you're new here?" This time she sighed in visible exasperation, she probably thought he was flirting with her and the flirtation was obviously not welcome. She lowered the handgun but didn't turn to face him fully like last time.

"I am. Do I stand out that badly?"

"Fraid so."

"I am sure this isn't uncommon but with the rash of murders in town, I am not taking chances. I have a family to protect. Surely the experience level of a novice is better than no experience with firearms at all."

"I agree completely. Want a few pointers?"

"Sure," he moved towards her, repositioning her grip on the gun to a more sound holding that would better absorb the recoil. To her credit she was very good about looking along the sight. She fired and her shot hit close to center mass of the head which surprised him, most of her shots were leveled towards the head – a killing blow, rather than center mass which was meant for incapacitation, "You have a lethal aim for a beginner but perhaps you should aim for center mass," he gently guided her gun downward so it was lined with the target's torso, "it's easier to hit and you only need to incapacitate long enough for the police to get there. So you have children?"

"Yes, two daughters," she said, making a mental tally that Sherry was as good as Veva's sister.

"And their names?"

"Genevieve and Sherry."

"They are lucky to have you, few mothers would run to the front, most would hide behind their husbands."

"I don't have a husband and even if I did, I wouldn't be much of a mother if my children were my shield. Besides you know what they say, never get between a mother and her children"

Zayn smiled, "I certainly wouldn't dream of it," and he could almost respect her but he had a feeling that even words would not redeem her shady past if it were drawn into the light in the present or near future.

* * *

><p><strong>August 1998 –<strong>

**5 Days After Arklay Mansion Destruction**

**Less Than 2 Months til Raccoon City Outbreak**

* * *

><p>Valete bent over the rim of the toilet, her body purging what little breakfast she'd been able to force down. For the first time since Kaplan's death she'd felt happiness, reports continued to get stranger and stranger but she couldn't feel anything but pleased. A hand rested gently on her belly, she'd just started to show. Many believed that this child was Cain's, not knowing that their marriage bed had been cold from the beginning, not realizing that she refused him but she knew this child to be what it was – a gift from beyond the grave. Somewhere in those last snatches of happiness with Kaplan, they consummated their marriage once more and conceived another child. Even miserable as she was, she glowed within even though her face was a peaked shade that was none too attractive. This child wasn't easy to carry, when she'd been pregnant with Genevieve she'd rarely felt sick and certainly never showed it to the degree she did today.<p>

Exhaling a shaky breath, she placed her hands upon the seat and pushed herself up. She showed but barely, the child was noticeable but far from completely grown. Worry still pervaded her happiness though. The accident of a distant outbreak 8 years ago still haunted her and she still required the T virus to live, to survive. During Genevieve's pregnancy she'd gone from an injection every four months to one every six months, the first would have meant exposing the fetus to two injections; the second option meant only one. As soon as she'd found out about the infant she'd planned to stretch the time between injections to reduce the child's exposure to the virus but still she feared. Genevieve had been six months, moving from the second trimester to the third at the time of her exposure. This child was young, scarcely through its first three months. Steeling her nerves she left the restroom and made her way back to Dr. Issacs.

"Valete? Are you ready?

Another steadying breath, "Do I have any other choice?"

"No, without this you'll die and the child with you."

She rose, nodding because she knew this but she still felt she had been obligated to ask. If there had been any other way she'd have taken it no matter the risk to herself. It would be better to reduce the risk to the child as much as possible. She sat down, prepared to watch this injection as she had every other. Issacs cleaned the injection site with an alcohol cloth. A soft prick drew her gaze down, it took her almost a full minute to realize the liquid was clear and was obviously not the virus. Then her vision began to swim mere moments before she went completely under.

* * *

><p>Eventually she woke and when she did she wished she hadn't. Even the thought of abandoning Genevieve couldn't keep her from wishing for oblivion as she sat, cradling the dead body of her unborn child. The T virus had been too much, she'd miscarried, and her body had purged the corpse of her son, their son. For a long time she sat there, so long that eventually Issacs had called Cain, telling him to retrieve her, to take her away where her grief could be a private affair done in the comfort of her home. Unsurprising she rejected him, pushed him from her, and reached a hand out, calling for the only one left alive whom could share her grief, "Veva? Genevieve."<p>

The girl hesitated, looking at her mother's bloodstained hands, but seem to realize that her mother was lost to her unless recalled from her grief. She slipped her small hand into her mother's and tried to offer a smile. Her mother's attention was drawn back to her but she could not return the gesture.

* * *

><p>Work became her salvation, the outbreak a blessing of sorts that helped her cope with the loss. It forced her back into the here and now and allowed her the banish the memory of her dead child deep down inside her. Eager for more to do and enraged by Cain's impotence to solve the crisis she went over his head and pleaded for her Father to turn over control of Operations to herself. It was significant in the fact it was the first time she'd wanted a position, a position her Father denied her stating that her grief made her unequal to the task at the moment. The outbreak was now working its way into town. Inexperienced or not, perhaps it was time to take action personally. Dressed in black slacks and a top she collected her weapons, making sure the safeties were on before stowing them away. If caught she'd be in trouble for carrying them concealed, the guns were back up to her knifes which she could wield with force and throw which accuracy.<p>

"Where are you going?"

Cain was there, dressed in uniform even when off the clock, he'd taken to stalking her since her miscarriage, and if possible, she resented him even more for seeming to care about her, "Out."

"Again?"

That response had insecurity written all over it, clearly she looked like she was going out and he thought she was messing around on him. Well let him think that, she didn't have time to baby him, "What's it to you? We maybe married but you aren't my keeper. Veva is at a friend's house. Don't bother waiting up for me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Oh my god, so much has happened in this chapter, it almost made my head explode. Next chapter is likely to be short, very short. Here I was trying to portray the Empress slipping out hence why Valete may seem 'colder'.


	8. Project: SIREN

**August 1998 –**

**1 Month Til Raccoon City Outbreak**

* * *

><p>"Sit down," Cain gazed at the screen of his laptop, mystified as to why Spencer would be contacting him, "Where's Valete?"<p>

"Out," great, was he now being regulated to becoming a go-between between his wife and his father-in-law.

"Good."

"You don't want to speak to her?"

"I don't want her around, not for this discussion. Is this line encrypted?"

"Of course," this had to be a discussion pertaining to the outbreak. Was it perhaps an upbraiding? Was he not doing a good enough job? Then again, if it did have to do with the outbreak than surely Valete would be involved in the conversation unless she done or failed to do something and her Father had lost faith in her. That was not hard to believe, since the miscarriage Valete had been increasingly emotional and agitated. Normally calm and collected, Cain found he wasn't really equipped to deal with her and spent more time sleep around elsewhere than spending time with his emotionally demanding wife.

"I think it is time to set the record straight with you. You've been through, hard working. You married Valete though admittedly you haven't got much to show for it based on the premarital agreement."

Cain's mouth furrowed into a frown, Valete had screwed him out of everything she could and succeeded most admirably. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd crafted the agreement in the hope that he'd not agree, "I don't see..."

"I need you to do something for me and I need it done quietly. I want Valete, or more correctly, her imposter to disappear. The body is that of my daughter, the mind is another matter. This outbreak is getting worse but it provides the perfect opportunity to act. Send my daughter's imposter into an early and final retirement and if you keep it a secret, I will adopt you as heir and you will inherit. That is far better than anything you could hope for as her husband."

"Our marriage..."

"Is a lie but the lie is much better for us both. If you keep this quiet you'll inherit, if it becomes public then the lie is exposed, causes a scandal, and you get nothing for your trouble."

"How could something like this happen?"

"My daughter, the real one, died at a most inconvenient time. An artificial intelligence was implanted and until recently did a good job but the masquerade is very costly, I am eager to put an end to it. See to it, Cain."

"Yes, sir..."

* * *

><p><strong>September 1998 –<strong>

**Zero Hour Collection of the 'G' Virus**

* * *

><p>The silence was unnerving, for the fourth time in the last twenty minutes she'd ran her hand over the handgun she'd pocketed before leaving home, needing the reassurance of the metal. Though this was her place of employment and this hallway led to her office, she felt like she shouldn't be there because the place was so deserted. No doubt the hallways had been cleared to make extraction of the G virus easier for HUNK's team to retrieve the sample. For her, the silent and deserted hallways seemed to condemn her presence; even though she could easily explain what she was doing there it felt like she shouldn't be there, like she didn't belong there. Either way she was past the point of no return.<p>

She was here for a reason; she'd best accomplish it and be on her way. When she'd given William and Annette the answer to their proposition, she'd thought it a done deal until she realized there was no way she could feign ignorance short of being utterly negligent. Something that was so uncharacteristic for her that her Father would never believe that she wasn't involved. So here she was hoping she could do one of two things: to convince Birkin to surrender his research willingly or stall Umbrella long enough for the virus to change hands safely. The result didn't matter to her as long as the research was handed off safely; the consequence of the alternative was terrible to contemplate. A biohazard outbreak of that magnitude would spread like wild fire. That could not be allowed to happen.

Valete pushed open the door to her office, reaching for the receiver – no answer but William and Annette HAD to be down there finalizing their plans. She slammed it back down and turned around just in time to see her office overrun by U.B.C.S.

"Miss Spencer, what are you doing here?"

"Overseeing the transfer, to make sure proper protocol is observed."

"Not today and not now, you're coming with us," he pressed the button on the communicator, "We've got her, she's in custody."

"Custody?! I didn't do anything," she declared defensively.

Realizing that he'd agitated her, he turned back to her and attempted to smile, "You are not being accused of anything, it's for your safety that we've been asked to remove you."

Valete gazed back at her desk, as if torn between a bid for safety or to complete what she came down for. Then the decision was taken from her, a strong hand moving to steer her out of the room. Internally her gut was telling her that something wasn't right about this. She was far from being a threat physically but the men were tense, out of her peripheral vision she saw they had their weapons trained on her. Did they expect her to attack them? All of them? What did they think she was capable of? She was positive that they all outweighed her by a solid 50 lbs. She couldn't like overpower one of them, so what chance did she have against all of them as a collective whole.

_RAWRRRRR!_

A roar split through the noise of their passage through the hallways followed by shots, a lot of them. She made a dash for her office, kicking the door closed. The door wouldn't be much of a barrier to whatever made that noise but it would keep her escort from bothering her while she figured out what the hell went on down there. More gunshots, closer in proximity to her location, she was willing to bet those who were meant to escort here had ran into what was running rampant.

Logging on hastily, she uploaded the security footage of the lab of the last ten minutes. William's back was to the camera but she was willing to bet that the case in front of him were samples of the T and G virus being readied for transport. Enter in Umbrella's brainless security detail, their attempts to explain their presence and demand the virus went over poorly to say the least. William was backing away, his hand never leaving the case as he leveled a handgun in their direction. A coffee cup clattered to the floor, distracting William, immediately the team opened fire. Blood coating the lab as William collapsed against the wall. The team mechanically went forward, grabbed the case, and left. Morons! They hadn't even checked to verify that the content was indeed the virus or that no samples were missing – a fatal flaw. Annette came out but left a moment later likely to get something to help him before he died but Valete fixed her eyes intently on William, her pupils contracting in shock as he lifted his hand, his palm curled possessively, lovingly around an injector that he plunged into his abdomen.

There was no helping William but this was most definitely an outbreak, even if it cut off her escape she had to seal the labs but she didn't think she'd be able to keep William in but perhaps she could delay him long enough for some to be dispatched to put him down. The shots were getting closer and she could hear the massive footfall's pursuing them in their retreat. A massive hit to a nearby wall made it cave in and the portions of the roof collapsed. She moved to avoid the pieces but felt a sharp pain clip her head from behind and she collapsed, unconscious to the floor with rubble falling around her.

* * *

><p><strong>September 1998 –<strong>

**Next Day - Raccoon City Outbreak**

* * *

><p>Over the last month Cain had discreetly watched his 'wife' for any obvious failings, anything that would indicate she was less than real. Her act was perfect; there had never been any signs, no signals that could have hinted her to being an imposter. For whatever reason that Spencer had her masquerade as his daughter, he'd chosen a flawless actress. Her mimicry was perfect in every detail, impossible to catch. Suddenly a knock interrupted Cain from thinking on the phone call he'd received last month.<p>

"Ah, Agent Fayth, please take a seat. Thank you for coming. In light the unfortunate deaths of your predecessors, Omega Team is now the best we've got and you are the best on Omega. We really don't want to allocate the effort of an entire team on accomplishing this objective. I am sure you will be able to handle it more than adequately. Your mission," he handed a manila folder to her.

Fayth, prompt as ever and frustrated about waiting for him to finish talking, flicked the folder open. She'd hoped for a detailed analysis of the mission's location, what kind of enemies to expect, what intelligence they wanted her to gather. It was beyond disappointing to see a single photograph – a bodyguard assignment? With a snappy comeback, she threw the folder back on the desk where it slid back into his hands, "No thank you!"

She didn't have the patience for that; one of her teammates could pick this one up.

"You haven't even heard the specifics."

"I'm not up for bodyguard duty."

"This isn't that, this mission is retrieval," he handed her back the envelope she'd placed on the desk in her haste to rise. Reluctantly she sat back down and opened it once more, a familiar face jumping out at her – Valete Spencer, "Your wife?"

"No, Project SIREN. For unknown and unexplained reasons, the REAL Valete Spencer died eight years ago. Our employer, for understandable reasons, feared the reaction of the media and felt that they would try to pin the tragedy of her death on his company, on him because she died on Umbrella property. It was decided that Umbrella's scientific might would be expended to bring her back and for the last eight years, an artificial intelligence, the EMPRESS has been masquerading as a dead woman. Recent events, involving the Red Queen, has cast doubt upon the safety of this decision. Many are now of the opinion that keeping her at large among the public may be dangerous. However, how it stands, she represents a considerable investment of time, energy, resources, and money. She may or may not be decommissioned but the decision has been made to recall her and you are to be tasked with this retrieval. It will require all your considerable skills to accomplish this."

"My forces attempted this but failed. I am not sure if it is due to 'Siren' herself or the outbreak."

"Outbreak?"

"Yes, in the labs beneath the city. I'm afraid there is little in the way of intel. Her last location was at her office in the G laboratories beneath the city. I'll give you clearance to access the maps but frankly she could be anywhere. Her home address is on the back of her photograph. She's been playing 'human' for a while so I doubt that she'd leave town without her kid."

"I see, you are going to collect her under the pretense of extracting her to safety but after the fact you are going to claim she was lost in this tragedy. I'll collect your specimen but the pay better be good."

"The total net worth of this contract is $850,000, 25% now, 75% when the job is done. Use of lethal force is NOT granted, you bring her to us dead you'll not be paid the rest."

"40% now. Anything could happen out there, she could die because of her own stupidity and I'm risking my life. I won't do this for anything under 40% upfront."

"35%."

Fayth had it! She cocked her gun, crossed the room and had it ground into his package, "Did you not just hear me? Anything below 40% is non-negotiable! 40% or I'll walk out of here and you can clean up your own damn mess minus your package and some sense. I assure you, a shot down there and you won't be making much sense."

"Fine, 40% it is, now please...," his whisper was hoarse and she wondered if whispering was the only thing keeping him from singing soprano.

* * *

><p>A shrill tone cut through the haze of his drowsiness, Zayn cursed with a groan hearing a similar groan with the plod of heavy shuffling feet in the hallway, apparently he wasn't the only one tired as shit. He pressed the Answer key, bringing the phone to his ear and perching it between his ear and shoulder, his voice sounded tired.<p>

"Zayn?"

"Jesus, Dev. I just got back last night. I've got the warrant, I'll bring it in later after I've gotten some shut eye."

"Sorry Zayn but you've got to come in NOW, Chief's call not mine. Chief Irons doesn't know about your little trip for our warrant but he told me to recall your ass early from vacation."

"What an ass, I'll be right in," he put Devlyn on a speaker and started to dress.

"Listen, Zayn! Be careful on your way in, something isn't right out there. Don't leave your place unarmed, the city's gone crazy, our murder investigations went from tens to thousands in the few short days you were gone."

"What going on with everybody?"

"You remember that report the S.T.A.R.S. gave us a few months ago? The one that was discredited?"

"Yeah," he also remembered that those reports they gave ruined the S.T.A.R.S. careers, the media had jumped like delighted hounds when Iron's had suspended them all from duty.

"It's just like they told us, we should've listened to them. I just reviewed the reports over here with Lance. A particularly helpful observation from Redfield said to shoot for the head."

"Anything else?"

"There is no reasoning with these creatures. Don't forget our warrant, if the opportunity to speak to Valete crops up I want to be able to act on it."

"Will do," nearby a door creaked open, it wasn't until he heard a loud moan that he looked to see that some motherfucker had busted into his place, "One sec, Dev, I've got an unwelcome guest."

The guy was wearing a black suit with a white button up underneath, the guy's pupils were milky and dilated, blood was caked around his mouth and he could see raw bits of flesh stuck between the teeth of his gaping mouth. Zayn knew he couldn't just shoot and ask question later, that would be a good way to get charged with use of undue force and police brutality, he may have a hard ass reputation but he wasn't a bad cop. It was more likely the guy was on some sort of drug though if a massive portion of the population had it then what had narcotics been doing these last few months? The guy reached out for him again, he flattened him to the floor with a kick to the chest, grabbed whatever he could carry, and picked up his phone, "Be there in 10, I need my undivided attention and my hands free. Later, Dev."

The guy was starting to stumble to his feet, without looking back Zayn grabbed the warrant on the table. Taking Devlyn's warning to heart, he loaded his Beretta and took to the streets.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know that putting RAWR for William's First G mutation was cliché but in Resident Evil 2 I could only ever make out him saying Sherry's name other than that it sounded like he was saying 'rawr' so that is what I put. To Valete's defense she wasn't close by and probably didn't hear him well through well-insulated walls. Here we also see the AI starting to come out of the wood work, when acting on Valete's human instincts she would have never done anything to risk her family but here she starts to second guess herself and worry more about containment than the fact Genevieve could be harmed by any actions she takes against Umbrella.


	9. Outbreak

**September 1998 –**

**Raccoon City Outbreak – Third Day**

* * *

><p>Valete woke to the sound of shifting rubble, she was half buried beneath it and someone was digging at it, digging her out. She started to move, pain lancing through her head with each movement. Everything swam, she was dizzy and disoriented and wondered if she was sporting a concussion. She knew she had to get moving and get help, she helped push off some of the rocks off her chest, ignoring the ache of her stiff neck and back. How long had she been down here?<p>

As she thought a hand reached out for her, a hand she took to gain leverage to rise. It wasn't until the person continued to pull on her hand in an attempt to bring it to his mouth that she saw his pupils were dilated, his mouth sagging open with hunger. Knowing this was life or death gave her an adrenaline rush and she ignored the pain to get rid of the immediate threat.

Kicking its legs out from under it, the medium build former U.B.S.C. member went down with a thud but she knew that would only buy her a moment. Pain was nothing to that creature and the only way to put it down for good was a tap to the cerebellum. Opening her desk drawer she was relieved to see the handgun was there with enough ammunition for thirty or so shots – enough to get her topside. It was loaded; she armed it and shot a single round between the guy's eyes as he attempted to rise. He wasn't alone; two others had followed him into her office. She gave them some of the same.

The door to her office had been locked but based on the busted lock she guessed they'd been throwing themselves against it for days hoping to get to her. She winced, feeling the semi-caked blood forming a scab. That locked door was likely the only thing that had kept them away so long when they'd smelt blood. A quick perusal of her desk revealed nothing else of use then her eyes stopped on a photograph. Three happy faces were smiling out of its depths; the picture was about a year ago before Kaplan had died, never to return. There he stood, the picture ignoring her loss of him, his left arm was curled possessively around her waist, and his right hand was resting on the right shoulder of Genevieve who was sitting in front of them both. In contrast, her left hand rested upon Genevieve's left shoulder, her right hand was out of sight but she knew it rested upon Kaplan's back. She took the photo too, her eyes then fell on her cell phone.

The screen display flashed SIGNAL LOST and she guessed it might be being blocked, jammed especially if things travelled topside but she didn't care about that, her eyes were fixed on the date flashing on the screen - September 23, 1998. A quick recall and she'd remembered why she'd been here – the G virus. She had hoped to avoid all this but that had happened on September 21, 1998. She been down here for two to three days. Valete reached for her receiver of the landline and was relieved to hear a dial tone, she doubted calls outside the city were allowed but she didn't need to make a call outside the city. True anxiety, the first since she'd woken up, started to take place as she heard one, two, three. On the fourth ring she heard someone picked up, the soft and tentative voice instantly putting her fears to rest, "Hello?"

"Veva! Are you okay?"

"Mom, where have you been?"

"Never mind that, are you safe?!"

"Yes," she answered clearly, her tone was calm. She'd been raised to be responsible and rational. Frankly Valete would have completely trusted Genevieve to be alone at home while she worked with someone checking in on her from time to time to make sure nothing emergent came up but the expectations of society was that it was negligent to leave a child Veva's age alone and thus they both weathered a babysitter.

"Where's Liesel?"

"She just went outside, something was happening out there, some guy attacked Ms. Fincherson," a shrill scream borne of panic could be heard over the phone, "he bit her, he bit Liese."

"VEVA! GENEVIEVE! LISTEN TO ME! I don't care WHO it is, you lock all the doors, dead bolt them and let NO ONE in! Listen to me; if Liese comes back you are NOT to let her in! Promise me! Are you listening?!"

"Yes, Mother," she heard the clicks of the reinforced deadbolts falling into place, those would keep them out longer than the leading industrial strength brands sold in public circles. For once she was glad to reap the benefits of being involved with an influential entity like Umbrella.

"Now hide and stay there until I get there!"

* * *

><p>For the last three days, something hadn't been quite right and Genevieve knew it. At first it hadn't been alarming just different. Many people were hunched over slightly as if in pain, the kind that could be associated to food poisoning. Veva quickly shot down that theory, rationalizing that not all of them could be suffering from the same thing unless they shopped at the same grocery store which was unlikely in a Midwestern metropolis like Raccoon City and if that were the case then why wasn't she and Liese being affected? Then everyone's skin had gone wrong, first pale then pasty gray, when Mr. Stile had gone to get the mail yesterday she'd noticed his blood vessels stood out, very dark and diseased-looking against his gray skin. Now, he was here and he had bit Liese.<p>

Veva wanted to look away but she couldn't rip her eyes away from the spectacle. It wasn't entertaining by any means but she felt like learning what was going on was the only way to survive what was going on.

A few others stumbled over, their gaping jaws were bloodstained, looking to join in on whatever Mr. Stile had started. Liese was rising, getting up, running for the house, a house that could no longer be a sanctuary for her. She felt against the door, Veva heard the dead bolt barring her entry, "Veva! Open the door!"

Her scream was hysterical and she was ashamed to admit she was too terrified to move, too afraid she'd be next. The three neighbors stalking her fell against her, knocking Liese against the window. Blood splattering as they ripped at her again and again, a scream of horror tearing from her lips to match the agony in Liese's dying screams. Amidst all the screaming, all it took to steady her and bring her back to rational thought was her mother's voice, shouting for her attention on the phone still at her ear, "Veva! Listen to me, hide! Don't let them see you," she obeyed, initially going for her bedroom closet but realizing she wanted to keep an eye on the doors, she cleaned out space below the sink to make a crawlspace for her, it was cramped but it gave her views of both doors. Still scared, her breathing was shallow in the dark nook but her nerves started to subside, she started to recover as her mom spoke a soothing mantra of, "Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream, don't scream," it was only when her breaths came back to a normal tempo that her mother spoke different words, reassuring words, "Stay safe, I will be there, shortly."

Then there was a click and Veva silenced the dial tone with the push of a button.

* * *

><p>Zayn had planned to drive to the station but as soon as he got outside he saw that things had changed overnight literally and that things had gone to hell in hand basket. Though he was starting to doubt his earlier theory about a drug gone wrong, surely there couldn't be so many people high at once on the same shit and he sure didn't remember hearing about any substance on the street that included 'cannibalism' as a side effect  symptom. Not that those selling the shit were ever forthcoming about mentioning the negatives of what they dealt in.

Truthfully he was fit as hell and generally liked to exercise but this was one day he didn't want to 'foot' it to the police station with crazy bastards roaming the streets but accidents made it impracticable, if not impossible, to drive.

_Walking it is then,_ he thought with an internal sigh. On account of his fit state, he made it to the police station in less than 10 minutes. Devlyn was waiting with Lance, the guy in charge of the RPD's computer systems, he was also the only guy willing to be regulated to a desk job and guard the records.

_If I were him, I'd go crazy! _Zayn held a lot of respect for the guy but frankly thought it would be preferable to be shot rather than waste away at a desk, "Dev," he nodded at Lance, "Officer..."

"You can call me Lance, no need for formalities in the midst of all this."

"Lance and I were discussing the case files concerning the Mansion testimonies. Originally after they were discredited, access to the files was limited or removed altogether. Lance has also been ordered to 'make himself useful' on the streets, he's bright but he hasn't been out there on a normal day. He has no partner, no team and I don't think anyone should be left on their own so we'll be doing this mission together. Let's go, I want to pay a visit to Valete before something catastrophic can befall her."

* * *

><p>Zayn was, quite frankly, surprised by what he saw and not in the way that one might think in this situation. Most would be shocked at the gravity of the damage done by the cannibal citizens but he was shocked because the neighborhood was so normal, so small scale. The houses were decent, neat, but more suited to the middle class. He'd expected that Valete would have a high-end place, grand and opulent, something equal to her station. When he looked at her home address he had to grit his teeth to keep from gawking in shock, It was well kept but nothing spectacular, not a bit out of the ordinary, "Lance, Zayn, let's split up and look for survivors. We'll each take a house. Zayn, you take that one," Devlyn was pointing to Valete's address, he nodded in understanding. Valete, if she was there, might take it as less of an intrusion if it was him. This assumption was based purely upon the fact they were briefly acquainted, which was better than being an outright stranger.<p>

As he approached the house, he leveled his gun and swiveled it as he searched the outside before turning his attention to the house's interior. The outside was clear except for a half eaten female corpse laying against the house on the front porch, her attackers had obviously moved on after cornering their unfortunate prey. The doors were locked; he pounded and got no answer. Not that he expected they'd answer if they thought there were crazies on the other side waiting to eat them. In response, he pounded his foot into the door: once, twice, three times. Frankly he was surprised it had withstood the pressure of his kick, a quick look at the lock showed it to be of quality craftsmanship.

A creak echoed in the distance, bringing his attention back to the present. Zayn stepped over the threshold of the door and into the house. The first room he scoured was the kitchen; it was very neat for a mother with two children. He'd always assumed that children left little time for cleaning and too many messes to keep up with. The kitchen was eerily spotless, if he didn't know better he'd have thought no one lived here. He worked his way counterclockwise through a self guided tour of the kitchen then moved to search the living room before moving onto a bathroom, a bedroom, a master bedroom, the dining room and finally to the lower level basement.

The crash of breaking glass overhead brought his attention upwards, considering he found the place locked Zayn was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around the idea the place was abandoned. Instinctively his gut was telling him that he was right, he HAD to be missing something. Moving back upstairs, he retraced his way through the kitchen. In the next room, broken glass was scattered over the dining room table and floor, wind was blowing through the house now. A feral shriek from above was his only warning. At one point he would have guessed it was female, it was hard to tell the way it was hanging upside down from the ceiling. Its skin was a light crimson, its pupils were no longer visible in the golden depths of its crazed eyes, but most striking of all was its tongue, elongated and lashing like a whip.

Zayn opened fire and the tongue hit his hand with surprising force trying to knock the firearm free. He retained his hold on it and shot at its hands and feet, knocking the creature free from its perch. Again it shrieked but this time it was out of anger and agony, as it fell it lunged for him using the momentum of their collision as leverage to regain its balance against the wall and knock him off his feet. This time his grip failed him, his gun flying from his fingers and rolling across the floor. He heard a distant noise and then suddenly his gun was skidding across the linoleum floor, backing into his waiting hand. He rose with speed honed by practice and survival instinct, this time aiming for its head and emptied the rest of the entire clip. It collapsed from the wall, obviously dead weight but now that it was dead his mind was elsewhere.

During the fight his gun had left his hand and come back almost instantly, guns didn't move on their own. It was possible it had hit something and was flung back in his direction but it was unlikely. He reached for a spare clip and suddenly she was there, the dead woman on the front porch. For a moment he wrestled with her, attempting to get her off him before she could do any damage. In an instant he decided to forego reloading of his primary and reached for his secondary firearm. As he pulled it free from his holster she lunged for him, her teeth grazing at his throat as they fell and his secondary firearm falling free from his holster and too far to be of any use. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it vanish, a moment later it was discharged. The woman groaned in shock as the bullet hit her in the center of the chest. It didn't stop her but it allowed him to recover and throw her off him. He slammed the spare clip into his primary firearm and fired a shot in the center of her head, right between her eyes.

Now he knew exactly where to look and turned his attention to the sink, the door was ajar just slightly. His secondary firearm lying there in front of it, guns didn't shoot themselves. Thinking it was a good idea to recover his firearm, he returned it to his holster before bringing his gun up cautiously, he had enough of surprises for one day, "Sherry?"

Zayn reached for the door and slowly opened it to reveal a single girl, young; she couldn't be older than six or seven. Her eyes were wide and innocent as she exhaled a shaky breath, it must've steadied her nerves because her voice was calm, and calmer than he would have been at that age after all this craziness, "Genevieve My name is Genevieve."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Next chapter should be out soon, I hope. Updates may be slower now that I am back in school. What Zayn battled in the dining room was something that appeared in Resident Evil Outbreak File #2. It's called a 'Suspended' and it's like a mix between Crimson Head and a Licker.


	10. Genevieve

"My name is Zayn Malek"

He lowered his weapon and smiled to the side along the sight at her, it was tempting to reach out a hand to help her but he realized that she that she didn't remotely know him and looking down at her from the muzzle of his firearm didn't help. She might be more inclined to trust if he put the weapon down and she learned more about him first. The first wasn't going to happen, the monstrosity in the dining room taught him never to be caught unaware or unarmed but the second he could do for her, "I'm a cop, a policeman. I'm here to help."

There were many questions he wanted to ask her but first he had to secure her and the other girl, Sherry. At the shooting range Valete had confided that she was the mother of two – Genevieve and Sherry, "Where's your sister? You have a sister right? Where is Sherry?"

The girl frowned, "I'm an only child. I don't have a sister. Sherry is my best friend."

"Oh," clearly Valete had embellished for his benefit, he was left to wonder how much of what she told him was true. If he was smart Zayn knew he'd ONLY believe what the legal records told him about her. When Zayn hadn't seen a birth certificate for Sherry Spencer he'd assumed that Devlyn had missed it or forgot to print it out and include it in the file. However clearly Sherry Spencer didn't exist, Genevieve Spencer did and she was his priority now.

"Do you want to come out of there? I've taken a look around, made sure they are all gone," Zayn still wasn't entirely sure what to call the walking corpses but he didn't want to call them undead, walkers, or zombies – even if that was the truth he didn't want to frighten the girl further. Invitingly he outstretched his hand to her, hoping she'd take it. Now that he found her he couldn't leave her here, she had to be evacuated somewhere to REAL safety but in the meantime a police escort was the safest place for a young child in this mess.

Her small body was wedged in amongst the plumbing pipes, it looked cramped and uncomfortable but she looked down as if thinking about safety before comfort.

_Smart girl,_ he thought to himself as he waited for her to come to the conclusion that was most logical. To Genevieve's credit it didn't take her long to realize her best chance was with him. Her hand gripped his firmly as she shakily rose to her feet; her skin was chilled to the touch. It made him want to encase her in warmth, a coat, a hug, anything but he wasn't sure if she'd be comfortable with any of that, he wasn't sure what she thought of him. Most children were taught by their parents to distrust strangers but most parents also taught them that policemen were there to aid.

Clearly the first more than the second, Genevieve's gaze was still tinged with suspicion. Zayn wondered if she'd been raised to distrust law enforcement to protect the company and her mother. Or was he just being paranoid? He probably was but unless you were stupid a person didn't make an enemy out of the global superpower without gaining a healthy dose of cautiousness. Zayn preferred to think of it that way; it was a circular argument as to whether paranoia and being cautious was the same thing. They weren't. Cautiousness was being careful when you had a reason to be and being smart and practical about dealing with it. Paranoia threw all that out the window; you didn't need a reason, only suspicion, and usually dealt with things harshly and poorly. Valete wasn't likely stupid enough to bring incriminating evidence home with her and Genevieve was seven and would never have had exposure to the type of secrets that required silence. If Valete cared about her girl she would've kept her from far away from this as she was able and despite her flaws, from the first time he had met Valete face-to-face he was sure of that – she loved her family.

Genevieve favored her mother in appearance. Her hair was the same dark shade of brown that bordered on black, its gentle waves framing her face and spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes were frost blue that was both chilling and ethereal but there was brightness in their depths. For what she had just seen her gaze was far too steady and he had to admit she was more collected and controlled than any child he'd EVER seen especially at her age, she was an almost perfect replica of her mother. Zayn prayed that this girl would grow up different than her mother who always looked dead inside, as lifeless as a porcelain doll.

It was just one more motivator for him to take Umbrella down. Though he didn't know Genevieve personally he'd been able to piece together enough through observation. He'd come to pity her half-life with her family. Genevieve was loved but not cherished, her base needs were seen to but her emotional ones were neglected. Both of her parents had forever been balancing her between themselves and Umbrella. When her father had died suddenly she'd been given neither time to grieve nor any time to acclimate herself to her new 'stepfather'. Genevieve had never been given her dues, she'd always taken second place to something and she deserved better. That annoyed Zayn more than he wanted to admit - _Parents REALLY shouldn't have children unless they were prepared to put them first! _Deep down he hoped that their efforts might liberate Genevieve from being tied to a questionable legacy at best and free her to find a true family, one that would make her a priority, their top priority.

"Genevieve..." he sighed quietly, "where are your parents?"

"I don't know," her voice trembled a bit but her tone was matter-of-fact, "my stepfather never says where he's going; he's too busy for me. My mom," she paused, clearly not wanting the first words she said about her to be condemning, "I don't want this to sound bad she normally is very good about calling when she isn't coming but I didn't hear from her for three days until a few hours ago."

Zayn glanced at her blankly, "You've been alone?" Frankly it wouldn't have surprised him if she had. In truth Genevieve shouldn't have had to been used to her mother not 'showing'.

Genevieve's gaze traveled to the woman who'd attacked him, her eyes fixed upon the place where he'd emptied a round between the woman's eyes. Her gaze lacked genuine grief but they held recognition at least. The girl's young eyes were wide as they remained upon that spot until he touched her other hand, covering their chill with the warmth of his palms and drawing her attention back to him. Bad enough she handled a firearm but she'd seen him deliver a kill shot, "No, I was left with Liese until..." she swallowed.

"It's alright," he said, cutting off any further need for explanation from her, he could piece things together. The babysitter had likely gone outside for some reason, gotten ambushed, and then eaten alive by whatever was rampant out there? It sounded crazy but frankly it was the truth if the massacred state of her body was anything to base his assumptions upon. The woman's corpse was covered in deep, gouging bite marks, with none of them the same shape or size. Clearly she'd been ambushed by the cannibalistic mob they'd found roaming about the neighborhood but why had she not returned to safety before they closed in or ran to the house and locked the door...?

With a sickening clarity he realized the babysitter's misfortune. She'd gone outside to see what was happening or perhaps it had been to help another victim but then she'd been attacked. She had ran back to the house and she'd found it barred to her, she'd been locked out by the young girl she'd been watching. By then it was too late for her, she been trapped on the porch where the pack had closed in.

"It's not okay," Genevieve's gaze dropped in shame, clearly she wanted to unburden her conscience but was afraid of what he might think if she did, "I locked the door when they came. They were so close, I was afraid that if she made it back inside they'd come in the house too! I locked her out and listened to her scream while I hid!"

It was like all control she'd held for days suddenly shattered and he was left with a sobbing child. Zayn was only surprised it hadn't happened sooner, this girl had to have monumental control to have kept off hysterics so long at this age. For a moment he stood there blinking blankly, totally unsure of what to do. He'd never had any woman as a permanent fixture in his life and because of that he'd never had a child either. He was no family man and had little experience with children besides what he'd learnt in human resources training. Zayn had barely passed that class, his people skills were not his strong suit and a single class couldn't have prepared him for a single little girl in circumstances such as these.

Fear petrified him, he was not the kind of person who should be guiding this little girl through this most difficult hour but he knew he couldn't leave her here. He had to convince her to come with him but he couldn't rationalize with her when she was so upset. _I have to reassure her_, he thought. Clearly she felt bad about what she'd done or she wouldn't have mentioned it to him, which is more than he could say for other adults four or five times her age. Zayn couldn't find it in him to condemn her for acting on fear. It was natural to fear especially at her age but her fear bordered more on terror which made it all the more understandable. No matter how well brought up she was everyone had his or her breaking point. Her tiny hands were trembling in his as her composure unraveled. Any other adult would have done the same if they lacked the means to defend themselves from a threat, they would've ran and hid. For her it was beyond all right that she'd done that, if those things had gotten inside there would have been NO place where she would've been safe from them. Zayn's heart seized at the thought of that, coming in this place to see Genevieve with dead glassy eyes, body smeared with blood and gore. How many children had already suffered that fate? Zayn didn't want to know nor did he want to know if he'd have to shoot a child. He would cross that bridge when it came to that, in the here and now he had to get Genevieve out of here.

Her actions thus far had preserved this place to be her sanctuary until he'd come. With one dead in the dining room and the other dead on the kitchen floor it was clear this place was not safe any more. Regrettably he'd seen to that and because of that he'd have to deny her the stability of her home and take her away from this place for her own good.

No pat on the back or any words would make that okay; she need genuine reassurance which meant lowering the barriers of professionalism and perhaps making this personal for her sake. He bent down to her level and pulled her towards him into a solid embrace. The young girl didn't fight him, she just settled there until the tears ran dry and exhaustion took their place, "It's okay. You did no wrong," his palms rubbed up her arms and came to rest as they cupped her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing softly beneath her eyes wiping away the remnants of her tears.

"Genevieve...I need to come with me, okay? I can't leave you here. Even if you close and lock every door and window they will eventually come, they'll find you, and if you are alone they'll hurt you but if you come with me I promise that they will not because I will protect you."

_And he would._

* * *

><p>Devlyn was at a loss. He'd started to wonder what had been keeping Zayn when he'd come out of a house with a child. If Zayn had to deal with anything like he had in the other house he dreaded to find out what had happened to the young girl's parents. Were they perhaps too late for Valete after all? He loathed asking but he had to, he had to know if their purpose here was in vain, "Her parents?"<p>

"Gone. Stepdad is nowhere to be found and she doesn't know where to start looking. Mom called a few hours ago but hasn't been heard from since, she could be anywhere."

For the first time Devlyn realized they might have an upper hand when it came to Valete. If she'd called then she still cared about the girl and if they had the girl with them then it could encourage Valete to seek them out herself. No playing games of hide and seek or cat and mouse but there was no hiding that the child posed a problem as well. She'd tie them up and slow them down something they could ill afford. They'd have to keep the child in protective custody but find a place or person to foist her off upon, "We'll have to report this, find a safe place for her."

The girl whined and hid deeper into Zayn's embrace, his hands tightened protectively upon her shoulders, "NO! I promised her that I would protect her," and for once Devlyn found himself on the receiving end of one of Zayn's glares. It shocked him; surely Zayn did not intend to babysit a child in conditions such as these. Zayn couldn't hope to take care of the girl AND be at his back and there was no doubt that he needed his partner now more than ever! The girl was a distraction and she had to go as soon as possible!

"Perhaps I could help with that. I'm only in your way out here. We could backtrack to the station. I'll guard the girl there while you find a way out," Lance trailed off uncertainly. Devlyn's face was contemplative but Zayn's gaze seared and burned. Devlyn hopes for Zayn to be rational plummeted in an instant. One glance at Zayn and he instinctively knew that Lance's suggestion wouldn't work because Zayn wasn't going to let it work. Once Zayn decided something there was no going back, no talking him down or out of it.

Zayn's disdain for this partnership had always been just beneath the surface but it reared its head now, "Oh yes, like you'd be able to protect her when you spent MOST of your career behind a desk clicking and clacking away at a keyboard. You might pass your proficiencies but I'm the best suited to protect her and that is what I intend to do," it left no room for dissent from either of them or no dissent that Zayn would listen to more like.

Devlyn knew that he should take Zayn aside and attempt to coax him to agree with Lance's proposition. It was certainly the most reasonable solution but he wasn't wholly sure he'd succeed and was fairly certain he'd piss off his partner more, "Find anything?"

Devlyn was purposely changing the subject and being purposely vague. He didn't want Zayn pissed off and the girl to know what they were up to. Zayn looked uncomfortable, "I secured the house and found the girl. I didn't get a thorough look around."

Devlyn was stunned, that had been the most important task. Zayn had a youthful vitality that he and Lance no longer had in the field. At the top of his game Zayn could've cleared half of the houses on this block by himself. It was shocking to see him leading along a child and to find out the one house he'd cleared hadn't even been scrutinized for evidence; evidence that was monumentally important for understanding the murders of the last few months, the cold cases from years before, and surviving the here and now.

Lance, ever the mediator realized the mounting emotional tides of Devlyn's disappointment and Zayn's prickly personality was a powder keg that would go off unless the flames were smothered, "I'll do it, if the house has been secured I shouldn't have much trouble gathering the evidence."

"Lance . . ."

"No let me do this, Dev. I can't do as much or as well as you two but at least in this I am able to use my skill set to be useful."

Zayn didn't respond to that, it was likely that he wasn't going to dispute that point. While Lance was gone Devlyn was going to talk to Zayn, he never should've said what he had and he definitely owed Lance an apology. Devlyn needed everyone at their best not at each other's throats. Lance checked his ammunition on his primary and sidearm then hustled towards the house. Devlyn was prepared to turn on Zayn but the girl blindsided him, "Why are you searching our house? That is illegal without a warrant, if you get anything from an illegal search it will inadmissible in court."

Did that girl even KNOW what inadmissible meant?

Devlyn didn't know whether to be shocked that she was using such advanced vocabulary or that she was attempting to school him in his own job. Devlyn bristled a bit, he was not a crooked cop, he played by the rules, a play that had forced him to wait over a decade to get enough to convince a judge to put his head on the chopping block and give him a warrant to just Valete's personal residence. He wanted to defend himself against what she was implying but to rise to her bait was childish. He decided that cold hard evidence was the best way to break her notions, "I have a warrant, would you like to see?"

The girl was shocked, shocked enough to stay her tongue but it was clear she didn't want to see it nor did she want to know why they were after something or someone close to her.

"Dev," Zayn's tone was cautionary, he'd made his point and could produce a warrant upon demand, there was no further need to bully the girl to shock her into silence. In fact, after what happened to her the last few days this was the last thing the girl needed from them. Then a shrill tone split through the night air cleaving their argument in two.

"The phone," the girl uttered aloud, her voice was hoarse with uncertainty. Zayn kept a reassuring hand upon her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as Zayn flipped open the phone.

"Officer Zayn Malek, Raccoon City PD."

There was silence on the other line then the voice of a male, his Germanic accent was heavy but understandable, "How did you come by this phone?"

"I picked it up along with a little girl."

"Genevieve," the man's tone sounded relieved but in a selfish way as if his neck was avoiding a noose. It was disturbing that he was less worried about the terrified young girl left behind.

"Yeah, Genevieve," damn that girl's name was a mouthful, smooth and flowing but still too long and complicated for a girl her age, "May I ask whom I am speaking to?"

"Timothy Cain. I work for Umbrella's Operations Department."

"Valete Spencer's husband too."

"Well yes I am," he barely finished that sentence before Zayn plowed onward, once he got going he really didn't want to stop. He had this guy on his toes and he wanted to keep pushing him, if he was lucky the guy might snap and divulge something unintentionally.

"Would you care to explain why you or your wife never came to get her? I'm betting that if you are running operations for Umbrella you are privileged and already out of the city so let me cut to the chase when were you planning on getting her out OR were you planning on it all?"

"Of course I was," now his tone turned a tad defensive, "I dispatched men, my finest men to extract her."

Zayn took a good long look around and in the distance, half way up the street he saw a mass of torn up bodies huddled around an SUV with the Umbrella logo emblazoned upon the license plate with identification, "Yeah... I see them, they didn't make it far, and I guess you'll need to redefine your definition of finest won't you."

"I suppose so," the voice was unemotional as he queried further, "Is she safe?"

"The girl? Yeah, she fine, not a scratch or bite on her, she's smart," he chanced a look down at Genevieve; he winked and gave her an encouraging smile which elicited a timid one from her in return. Zayn had made sure to say that loud enough for her to hear, he wanted her to feel good about herself. Not every child would have survived as she had.

"I have a proposition to put to you and I suggest you take it. There is no saving the city from whatever is happening to it-"

"Don't act like you don't know what is going on. If anyone is in a position to glean an understanding of what is going on here its Umbrella," he left it unsaid that if they were at fault for what was going on that they'd know EXACTLY what was going on.

"I don't know what you are implying but like you I want to get her out of there, I'll get you out of there too if you'll escort her to an extraction point. I've got limited resources but Genevieve is very important to some important individuals, the kind of people who pay well for notable services rendered," Zayn didn't doubt it for a moment. He had done some background on the company too. Of the three Umbrella founders only the Spencer line still stood strong. Marcus had never had any progeny at all before vanishing and who knew what happened to the Ashford line. After her mother Valete and her uncle Valean, Genevieve was the undisputed heiress to Umbrella. No doubt Old Man Spencer wanted to keep his company in the family, he'd want his granddaughter safe in case she was the only grandchild he ever got

"Listen to me. I'm not doing this for a reward or the rescue or for you. I am not someone who can be bought! I'm not even doing this for my job. I'm doing this for HER so you better be there or so help me there will be no way you'll come out on top!"

"I understand you perfectly," the guy sounded like he was attempting to be soothing and diplomatic but to Zayn he still sounded like a prick that needed to be cut down, "Raccoon City University, the Rooftop, 2000 Hours."

"Done," Zayn snapped the phone closed to see all eyes on him.

* * *

><p>Lance kept his weapon at the ready; the other houses had been a good refresher for the field enough that he felt confident on his own. There was nothing to be gained from either of the bedrooms though he took a look around. In the dining room a desk against the far wall had a laptop, encrypted. Decryption would have to wait but he took it, placing it in a satchel and swinging it around his shoulders. The kitchen and basement were just as unremarkable just as ordinary as the rest of the house and grounds. The garden was the ugliest he'd ever seen, full of green leafy plants barely a foot tall and nothing he recognized. Nevertheless Lance hefted the camera and took detailed images of the property inside and out. Maybe there was something he was missing; something that he would dismiss that the others would not, after all this was their case.<p>

Lance angled back out and backtracked towards the others hoping that while he'd been gone tensions had ebbed and that a decision had been settled upon that would rid them of having to be saddled in the long term with a child. His wish wasn't answered, if anything Devlyn looked more irritated and was shouting at his headstrong partner. The girl, bless her, was stoic, no doubt she was putting on a brave face in spite of her fear. As he approached Devlyn's words could be clearly heard, "Now that we are all here you mind sharing the contents of your conversation with us?"

"A rendezvous for extraction for her," he pointed at Genevieve, "Umbrella wants to extract her."

"And we let them?" Devlyn's tone snapped like a whiplash, it was so unlike him that it drew Zayn's attention, his eyebrows raised in question as if asking him what was wrong with him.

"Who are we to prevent them?"

"It would have been nice to discuss this beforehand."

"What is there to discuss Devlyn? She's a little girl she should be safe well beyond the borders of this city. Who are we to keep her from escaping when she has a perfectly good opportunity right before her?" Zayn rose and walked over to Devlyn, "I believe in our cause to make them pay no matter what but that little girl isn't going to get caught in the middle and be made to pay with them. Hold onto your grudge if you must but remember who the innocent are lest they get caught in your crossfire."

Devlyn paused and for several minutes he was lost to them, Lance hoped that Zayn had said the right thing because otherwise the fighting would only get worse but Devlyn re-surfaced, his wry smile holding a trace of bitterness but not towards Zayn but rather towards himself. Lance recognized the smile as one of self-loathing; the kind of loathing you felt when you realized that you were caught up in a moment of personal weakness. The weakness of emotion where every sensible notion was devoured before it could take root and you were left to find yourself playing the fool.

* * *

><p>Devlyn knew that Zayn was right; he had been so caught up in his revenge that he thought only of the opportunities the girl opened up to them and not about what was best for her. It was a good thing that Zayn had been thinking well enough for the both of them. It was a testament to their trust and friendship that Zayn had known just what to say to bring him back to being himself. The ends did not justify the means, the day he believed that was the day he was no better than Umbrella.<p>

No matter what Genevieve's parents had done she was not complacent in their guilt, she didn't deserve to be used or manipulated to bring them to justice. There was no easy way out for him or Zayn, they'd do as they'd always done, they'd bide their time and do their job while waiting for the evidence to fall into place. If he wanted to question Valete he'd have to find her himself, not hold her child hostage to draw her in, "I never thought this day would come but you've grown up, Zayn."

"Yeah I guess I have. Now let's get this little girl out of here."

* * *

><p>The rendezvous point was clear on the other side of town and all the main arteries of traffic where clogged with the living fleeing from the undead in addition to their neglected cars and belongings. It made driving impossible but it was impractical to ask Genevieve to walk the whole way. He had to give her credit she was beyond stubborn and did well for the first mile or so but then she started to fatigue and quickly lagged behind. Her shorter strides having to work thrice as fast to catch up to their larger ones. Zayn had to admire her pluck, she really tried to make it on her own, she didn't want to be a nuisance or slow them down so she worked like hell to keep up and never uttered a complaint.<p>

However this wasn't going to be able to turn out like she wanted it to, she couldn't stay with him in the city nor did Zayn want her. No person should be in the city but especially not a child, almost everything was larger than her and since she was so small she'd be an easy picking if ever separated from them and caught while defenseless. Not to mention there was the matter of when they did catch up to Valete. For years, long before he'd taken him as a partner, Devlyn had been fighting his solitary crusade against Umbrella from the shadows. Devlyn knew better than anyone what it meant to bide his time and wait to strike but Zayn knew that Devlyn's control was already fraying at the edges. If he had a chance to take Valete into custody he would do so and without any thought of sparing the child's feelings. No, it was better for her to be gone before Devlyn caught up with her 'dearest mother'.

* * *

><p>Valete stepped through the open front door of her home fearing the worse; but a glance at the door revealed that it hadn't been opened from the inside but rather battered in. Valete knelt beside it noticing the imprint of a shoe. It had been kicked in but the question was by whom? Umbrella? From the kitchen she could see a bloodstained hand and leveled her gun towards the floor. Her eyes widened in slight recognition, it was the babysitter Liese.<p>

Her body told it all or all that she needed to know. The various bite wounds was the obvious cause of initial death and its later reanimation. A shot to the temple was the final blow and Valete knew she wouldn't come back, at least not right away. Umbrella would see to it that Raccoon City was less than dust before they'd let Crimson Heads run rampant over the Midwest United States. It was why she didn't want uncertainty when it came to knowing where her daughter was.

She pulled a folded scalpel out of her breast pocket of one of her coats and dug into the shotgun wound, using its point to dig out the remains of the bullet. A 9mm Parabellum round, a standard round that was common enough but Umbrella armed their soldiers with the best. It was likely the mark of the RPD; in an instant Valete decided that they weren't good enough to protect Genevieve. In taking her from this place they might've protected her from the immediate threats that infiltrated her home but that was nothing compared to what was out there in the open.

Valete surged into the adjacent dining room and started as she saw a crimson humanoid laying stomach up on the table. Valete gave the monstrosity a wide berth and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. Valete put the key into the lock and turned it, opening the drawer and emptying it in an instant. Her eyes were fixated on the top of her desk where the laptop was missing. It was entirely possible that someone stole it in the crisis but that was unlikely that people would concentrate on petty theft when fighting for their lives on the street. The last thing she pulled out was a set of combat knives, the largest was a machete and the smallest was a throwing knife. Valete pulled out a thick paring knife that she used for gardening and went out to her garden. She settled into a hasty harvest of the leafy herbs.

The plants were utterly unremarkable unless you knew, as she did, that the ugly stalks were a natural antigen to the deadly virus running rampant throughout the city. If properly grown, harvested, and cultured they were the primary ingredient of the antivirus. On its own, if ingested in a timely manner it could halt the progression of the virus. If the person had a strong immune system it could bolster resistance. It was a shame that she had to cut them early before they reached their full growth, it was a shame she'd not been able to realize her dream of making a vaccine, to make the T virus obsolete in entirety.

Valete knew she would have to try again another day, she would surely be able to grow more off of these and if she couldn't 'she knew they could be applied to good use in this crisis. It was why she couldn't just leave without them; she refused to allow perfectly good plants to be wasted to nothing when the city got nuked. If her garden looked ugly before it looked hideous after her paring and pruning was finished. Her satchel was crammed full to bursting with ammo and the green herbs as she took to the streets.

Truth be told, Valete knew that the trail was cold, whoever took Genevieve left little trace of their passing or at least nothing she could follow. By the end of the block she had nothing to go on at all which left her to decide what she should be doing. _Some good_, she thought, she didn't have to worry about the infected like others did and she had a bag of herbs that needed to be put to use. The pressing problem was that the human infected were the least of her worries. There were bigger, worst predators out there and she was hardly equipped to deal with them.

Arms and ammunition were about to become a priceless currency too. She needed to get hold of some serious automatic or semi-automatic weapon with a decent amount of ammunition. A handgun would only take her so far, far into what she wasn't yet sure. What was a reasonable objective that could be accomplished in this chaos? Valete wasn't sure but she had to aspire to something. Genevieve was the only thing left to her in life that she cared for but Genevieve was someone that was lost to her at the moment. She could pursue and run around in circles trying to find her beloved child but it would likely result in time and energy wasted - Valete hated the idea of that.

Valete also realized that for the first time she'd have to openly declare an allegiance and make a decision based upon it. Valete had always told herself that her work was important, that it kept everyone safe – it kept the public safe from Umbrella's illegal research and kept Umbrella safe from the public. Umbrella was like a train wreak, once she saw how low or how bad it could go you couldn't possibly look away and feign ignorance no matter how much you wanted to. If she sided with Umbrella, she'd have to discard her conscience and commit herself to purging every shred of evidence and each and every person in Raccoon City. It would protect Umbrella's reputation and her own at the cost of her humanity. The second option was the more difficult, she could save as many as she could but it was something that would be as harsh as it would be rewarding. It would hold Umbrella accountable and it would ruin her. Neither choice was altogether appealing to her but ultimately it was advice from her mother that helped her resolve her internal crisis.

Verena Spencer had told her there was two steps to consider before agreeing to do something, there was two questions to ask yourself: _can you do this _and _do you want to?_ If the answer to either question was no than you couldn't or wouldn't do something.

Could she silence a city? With chilling realization she knew she knew she had the capability. With a handful of calls she could be extracted and exact a death blow on the entire city. Her _Apocalypse_ _Protocol_ was the blueprint for swiftly silencing any failure on her part to contain an outbreak and frankly Umbrella wouldn't hesitate or bat an eyelash if she made that call but could she make that call? She wasn't sure so the answer to the first question was a maybe? As for the second, did she want to strike the deathblow to the outbreak? Of course she did but she wanted to do it with a clear conscience. It meant she was not going to ally with Umbrella, she was not going to tread the easy path, and she was going to have to make it on her own.

If she was going to wander the city without an escort she needed to be smart about it. Her quiet neighborhood was on the west side of Raccoon City, well out of the downtown area, it was quite a distance from City Hall, the Precinct, and Umbrella headquarters but that is where she was going to go. It seemed like a bad idea to get caught in the downtown area, it was the most highly populated area and if she was smart she'd stay well out of it but she couldn't afford that. She needed what was in the armory and well...she needed to clean out Kaplan's desk.

* * *

><p>Devlyn was pushing a brutal pace; Zayn saw this as clear evidence of how badly he wanted to be rid of the girl. She was a hold up, a delay they could ill afford when they needed to be swift and decisive.<p>

"Whoa, Dev, hold up," Zayn glanced back to see Genevieve walking sedately as if utterly worn out, it wouldn't surprise him if in the next few blocks she would have fallen to her feet unable to get up. They were used to the rigors of duty in their line of work, whereas Genevieve, as a child, was not conditioned for such. Zayn picked her up and easily slung her into a seat upon his shoulder, "Can you hold on?"

"Yes," her grip was firm, enough that he had to loosen her grip so it wouldn't constrain his airway enough to distract him. The flashlights attached to their handguns swiveled down the length of Raccoon St, one of the two main thoroughfares running from East Raccoon to West Raccoon. Raccoon St was in the northern part of the City the Hospital and the St Michael's Clock Tower was a few of the landmarks. Ennerdale St. was the southern counterpart to Raccoon St and its defining details was the City Hall and R.P.D. Precinct.

To say that Raccoon St was a 'pile-up' was a grave understatement. Barricades had been set up which explained why the downtown population hadn't overflowed or seeped into the western neighborhoods. To add insult to injury it was impossible to see down the street. Semi trucks, SUVs, and cars were in accidents so bad that the middle was bent and twisted.

Lance gazed down at his computer interface, "Calculating an alternate route. I'm going to assume the main streets are not viable routes to rely on."

Zayn was tempted to tell Lance to shut up, none of this was helping and though Genevieve was trying to appear unaffected she was almost pale as a sheet but a preemptive warning glance from Devlyn said that him starting up his shit wouldn't help either. While Devlyn and Lance discussed the route to be taken Zayn glanced over at the girl deciding the least he could do was distract her, he didn't want her using the wait to focus on what was around her. Raccoon City was going to leave its impact, that was inevitable but he hoped to reduce the impact it would leave upon her.

"I don't want to leave," that declaration instantly shocked him after what she'd witnessed so far.

"What?"

The girl stood stoic and still as a statute but her head turned to gaze in his direction, her eyes piercing enough to rivet him in place, "My mother is still out there, she said she was going to come for me."

Genevieve gave Valete more faith than she was due and she was certainly more loyal. The girl tried to sound secure and resolute but there was the barest trace of uncertainty that was borne from the fact Valete Spencer hadn't always been best about keeping her word. Zayn wasn't going to have this discussion, the girl was young and a civilian there was nothing to argue – she had to go for her own good. The sooner Genevieve learned this fact the better! Zayn shook his head, "It's not safe for you here anymore, we need to get your somewhere where you can be well protected and this isn't it. You need to leave the city."

"You said that YOU would protect me but how can you protect me if you aren't around me? I could go with you and help people too! I promise I'd keep up and stay out of the way like before!"

Zayn wanted to gape at the girl; she probably had more guts and heart than most in the city. Here she had a ticket out of this mess and she wanted to stay behind and help people. _This is going to be a uphill battle_, he thought, "You can't stay with me all the time Genee-veve," he knew that he had said it wrong, his tongue having difficulty with the vowels of her name, "once you get to safety I can look for your mother."

"It's Genevieve," she corrected, "but won't finding her be quicker if more people are looking for her?"

Zayn couldn't very well say she was wrong because obviously the more who knew to look out the faster it would be to track her down. Genevieve was not going to be a party to this though, how much worse would it be to see her mother questioned and possibly arrested on top of all this. Zayn expelled a heavy breath, "Genevieve, you don't have to be looking for her with us. Your presence is a distraction and if anything would happen to separate us from you, you wouldn't survive on your own. You need to go."

"Do I have to leave already though? Maybe we could find others and they could come too," it was a sweet thought, naïve and optimistic, but clearly whatever rescue was coming for her was meant for ONLY her and maybe a select few. There would be no way to rescue a whole city like she was thinking.

"Veve . . ." the nickname slipped out of his mouth without thinking, "I know you mean well but the extraction is for you specifically. We have to get there on time or we'll miss the helicopter and you might never get out of here, understand?"

"It seems stupid to only take one person out when there is a whole city out there in trouble too."

" . . ." Zayn had to bite his inner cheek to stop himself from actually agreeing with her, at this stage any agreement would only encourage her to dissent and twist things further and further out of control. It was stupid, there should be a fleet of goddamn transports trying to extract people from this city but there wasn't. There was only a single helicopter waiting for a single girl but Zayn couldn't hold that against Genevieve, it wasn't her fault that the welfare of the city was sacrificed to her wellbeing, "You'll be going with a few other people and they're waiting for you, so we need to get going and that'll be the end of it," he said attempting to sound like he meant business.

Zayn turned to Lance and Devlyn, "Do we have a operable route yet?"

"Yeah," Lance replied, he and Devlyn had seemed to be on the verge of finishing a conversation, "we'll take the route through the Zoo then we'll take a left and follow Euston Street across the river and right up to Raccoon University. We'll be able to skirt just along the edge of downtown without being in the thick of it."

Lance suddenly glanced around as though looking for something or someone and Zayn had a sudden surge of panic, Lance asked the thing that suddenly had come to mind, "Where's the girl?"

Zayn raised the muzzle of his gun and allowed the light to spill in a dizzy fashion from one direction to another. In hindsight he never should've taken his eyes off her especially after being told she was going to evacuated whether she wanted to or not. Genevieve was a smart girl and realized that evacuation wasn't going anywhere without her so she took off without them. The problem was he hadn't been bluffing; her chances alone were slim to none - they HAD to find her and quickly. The Raccoon St. barricade and accidents didn't leave her enough room to wiggle through and he didn't see any child fleeing in the direction they came from so his flashlight swiveled into view upon the entrance to the Raccoon City Zoo.

_Damn it, Veve, don't let me find you dead, OR worse, like the 'Others'._

* * *

><p>Genevieve knew that leave behind the police was a bad idea but she was sick of being put at arm's length or pushed around. Her parents had never listened to her and neither did they; it was all about what they wanted. This was a tragedy and it affected more than just her, she didn't want to be a self-serving coward fleeing to safety while others lingered in danger especially her mother. Raccoon St was in northern part of the city and Umbrella offices were in Central part of the city to the south. That meant going through the Zoo as the others had suggested. Genevieve had known there wouldn't be as good a chance or maybe no chance of sneaking away after the police decided upon a course of action. She had to leave while they were still trying to piece it together. Did she feel bad? Yes, she did, at least she felt bad about Zayn, he'd seen to genuinely care about her well being and she spurned his kindness and likely made him look like a fool for letting her run off. As for the others well the one she barely knew and the other seemed like he could care less about her – two could play that game. Okay so she only felt bad about Zayn...<p>

She kept her passage silent, not wanting to attract the attention of her escort or of more unwelcome things. Genevieve wasn't sure if what was going on would affect the animals too but she didn't want to find out firsthand. If the state of the zoo was anything to go on, she feared the worse. She crept and hid among the debris, the first animal she saw was an elephant if it could be called that anymore.

Flabby, leathery skin and muscled meat hung off its side exposing bone. Bloody bites marred up and down its skin and its ivory tusks where bloodied from having speared something. Was the virus enough to make an herbivore a carnivore? Again, she wasn't interested in finding out so when she felt its heavy footfalls coming in her direction; she shrunk into hiding just in time for its heavy feet, caked in mud and blood to go past her head. After it passed her she just sat there trying to regain the nerve and bravado that made her abandon her protectors. She'd already done that, committed herself to a course of action and she couldn't go back now. If she didn't move she'd not get out of the zoo, she wouldn't find her mother, and she wouldn't be able to get to safety.

In the distance she saw a group of five hyenas picking apart one of the zookeepers, that guy was so far gone she wasn't sure there would be enough of him to get up and walk around. A pride of lions lingered and languished out in the open in the distance but as long as no one started shooting up the zoo they looked content. Like all the animals they bore marks of what was going on, their fur was matted with scratches, bites, blood, and gore but unlike the others the pride of felines looked bloated as though they had gorged. Genevieve didn't doubt it; they were probably the apex predators even like this. Being quiet and small was the only asset she had so she knew she better not waste what good fortune was inherently hers. Genevieve crept carefully forward trying not to feel like she was being watched but she was, by a predator that was large as it slithered small and unnoticed against the dark ground.

Its tongue tasted the air as it slithered forward, venom dripped along the length of its fangs as it anticipated sinking them into the girl's flesh. As it came upon the girl it failed to notice the approaching footsteps of death drawing near, drawing a curved blade as it crossed the distance. The serpent lunched, footsteps swiftly echoed behind it and started the prey. The girl turned in alarm and it hissed angrily as its jaws snapped short of the little girl. She cried out and moved to avoid it, its fangs barely grazing the skin and opening it to the venom.

The girl recoiled as if shocked, the venom burning angrily in her skin like a brand. She attempted to wipe the rest off onto her bag. The snake turned on its attacker, recoiling to snap forward once more but as it did so it saw something fly towards it, it turned to face the incoming threat and the serpent's jaws opening to snap around the backpack. With its maw filled to bursting, it was harmless and its attacker crossed the distance and cut through its neck with a clean slice. The serpent's mouth continued to try to move and contract around the bag. Zayn pulled out his pistol, a single round piercing through the night as it shot the dismembered head of the snake.

A tiny sob was expelled and Zayn made a beeline for it, scooping Genevieve onto his shoulders and lunging for cover. The shot had alerted the entire zoo and now its worse predators were coming out, prepared to play.

"I'm so sorry," the girl whispered and Zayn's annoyance was forced to heel just slightly. Genevieve had gone through another traumatic ordeal and he couldn't add his anger, his annoyance, or his worry to the slab of shit the girl had to deal with. Too much she had to endure and her mind would snap, break into a million pieces and then where would she be. True that she had walked or waltzed straight into this events, so sure that she'd be okay on her own without them and perhaps this would be a good lesson for her not to run off on her own but no kid, no matter what deserved the kind of nightmares Raccoon City would give her.

"It's okay, Veve," he raised his free hand, entwined it with hers, and gave it a warm encouraging squeeze. A strained but warm smile accompanied it but Zayn doubted that Genevieve could see that, "It's going to be okay."

Zayn knew that where they were hiding wasn't in the open enough to be seen but likewise he knew he had to get his bearings: he had to see what was out there, gun it down, and get them the hell out of this zombie zoo.

Just as he raised his head and his firearm he heard shots, not the loud shot of pistol or assault firearm but the speed of a sniper round whizzing past his head.

_Fuck! Snipers!_

Zayn heard a loud thump and saw one of the lions lunging in their direction fall. Zayn sprinted forward towards the next available cover wondering who was the one shooting. If it was someone like Devlyn he was cutting it awfully damn close where the round had been close enough to be heard but if it was a friend he shouldn't have to worry about needing cover from behind but shouldn't wasn't good enough. With Genevieve he knew he couldn't trust a sniper would know he was alive or trust that the person behind the rifle was friendly. Umbrella sure as hell didn't like the local law enforcement save for the crooked cops.

Finding cover from both sides was a tall order, try impossible so it was a choice of cover from the sniper or the animals. Zayn chose cover from the sniper and aimed his firearm at the approaching lions. Five shots later, two more were down, a male with his mane drenched and caked with blood and a female, her paws and maw drenched. In the distance he saw a two hundred meter dash had to be made and in the distance he heard the baying and howling of what had to be hyenas. Zayn made a run for it, sprinting the length of the gauntlet, hearing the teasing jeers of animals. A few times he shot but mostly he ran and as he left the zoo behind he slammed the gate closed and locked the gate at the same time hoping that Devlyn and Lance had locked the entrance. The goal had been to rescue Genevieve and made sure no citizen made the same mistake she had. He heard the gates rattle as animals attempted to go through the bars and Genevieve screamed. Zayn leveled his pistol delivering point blank shots in the skulls of the animal's head that were trapped in the gate bar.

"Zayn?" the shaky timbre of her voice delivering her question.

"We're safe for now. We wait for the others now as long as we can."

Their wait wasn't long, Lance came shouldering a long scoped rifle, he seemed out of breath but he smiled, "I guess I still got it."

"You as—"

"Zayn, language." Devlyn warned.

Zayn bit back the rest of his words and lowered his voice as he approached Lance and cuffed him over the head, "You nearly shot me, you ass," but it was hard to keep from being impressed, he never took Lance for a sniper or being good at any firearm.

"The beastie was close to you, it was a difficult shot but you are still standing."

"That's not what you have to worry about, if you had shot the girl I would have murdered you and made it look like an accident

"Come on, boys, we have a long way to go. Stop quarreling, it won't get us OR her anywhere!"

After they left the zoo things settled down considerably, there were fewer amounts of undead in the residential neighborhoods than in the downtown areas and he and Lance were staying far apart and staying silent. It was of course Genevieve who broke the silence and the threadbare tension in the group, "Zayn, how did you become a policeman?"

The question caught him completely off guard, which is likely what she'd been hoping; in hindsight perhaps she had been trying to make things better. Zayn wasn't used to being asked personal questions but it was the end of the world as this girl knew it and she likely had nothing better to do so he decided to humor her, "Well after I finished school I went to an academy for training," he kept a majority of the details out in an effort to keep it simple and he didn't want to bore her. Being a cop required many years of firearm and combat training before an internship and employment as well as extensive knowledge of the laws of countries, states, human rights, and civil rights.

His vague explanation wasn't good enough for her, he should've known, she was much smarter than most kids twice her age, her next question gutting his hope to keep this simple "What kind of training?"

Zayn paused, trying to figure out a way to satisfy her curiosity without overloading her with information, "Mainly on how to protect people."

Another vague answer and again it wasn't enough, "What kind of training protects people?"

Lance grinned, snickering at Zayn being put on the spot and lead on by a kid. Zayn shot Lance a look that said _'I'd like to see YOU do BETTER' _but when he realized she was still waiting for a response, "Well, we need to read up a lot on the law and how it works so we know what is illegal and what isn't and we have to do physical training so we're fit and healthy."

"What do you do to stay fit and healthy?"

For every question he answered she had two or three more to take the last questions place.

Zayn, in a sudden burst of inspiration, smirked as he answered, "Well boring stuff like running and lifting weights."

"Running isn't boring, it's like racing home after school," and his plan to dissuade her interest was totally bombed, of course a kid would enjoy activity.

Lance could be heard chuckling again but he attempt to quiet it by pretending the cough, he was amused at Zayn meeting his equal in a seven-year-old girl. Zayn was sorely tempted to flip Lance off but he didn't want to be a poor example to the child. Hot tempered as he was he still had decency to keep his mouth and attitude clean around her. He DIDN'T want to be explaining to Valete where her daughter picked up his bad habits. Lance gave him a look that meant his humor in it was good-natured. Even Devlyn's mouth was slightly curved, amused that his partner could hold his own against men five times the girl's size. Zayn ignored Lance and turned his attention back to the girl, "Do you like running?"

Maybe he could turn the tables on Genevieve and get her to talk about herself rather than asking him about himself.

"Yes, I like swimming better though!"

"Hmmm, swimming is a pretty good sport," not HIS sport of choice, he preferred to work out on a treadmill or practicing kickboxing, but he wanted to keep the focus on her not himself so he kept his mouth shut, "I bet you can swim like a fish."

"I like the water, it feels good and you don't get sweat all over you."

"True but pool water is full of chemicals so you need to take a shower afterwards or you will smell funny."

"Chlorine smells good, its clean smelling like bleach!" it didn't surprise him that she was smart enough to know chemical names and smells, likely Valete had taught the girl to know safe chemicals from hazardous ones too. Zayn was brought back from his musing by Genevieve's next words, "I was just wondering what it would be like to get a job helping people And how!"

Lance and Devlyn both blinked and then averted their gaze from his hastily, both of them thinking the same thing as Zayn did, how he had walked into THAT all by himself. Her words made Zayn realize that it had been the aim of her conversation all the while. It wasn't a child's curiosity or just talking to pass the time, somehow he had managed to endear himself to her that she had it in her head that she wanted to be just like him. The thought amused and scared him and so he hastily tried to retract and backpedal, to get her to think this through, "W-well there's lots of professions that help people, more suitable professions."

He needed to divert this girl's admiration onto others, this wasn't him at all, he wasn't used to being looked up to or admired. Of course he was a cop but he'd only been on the force a few years, trivial compared to veteran heroes like Devlyn. To others he was still too green, too impulsive, and too reckless. To Zayn being scolded and reprimanded was second nature to him, adoration was not, "There are doctors and nurses—"

"But those jobs would be boring because you're stuck inside and you only see and deal with people AFTER they are in trouble. I want to help people BEFORE they get hurt or are in trouble."

Lance whispered to Zayn, "Congratulations, you've made your mark on the world and made an impression on a child."

Zayn couldn't figure out if Lance was being serious or not but he glowered at Lance, his commentary was really NOT needed at the moment. Normally this would be a good thing if it wasn't the wrong sort of impression on a very important child, "Well . . ." he stuttered a bit because he didn't really have a strong argument against hers. The girl was right. There were firemen and paramedics, doctors and nurses but only police were both retroactive and proactive in the scope of their duties. The primary duties were etched into their motto: _To Protect and Serve_, to protect people in advance and serve as aid if trouble occurred. The other professions were only called in after the fact whereas police protection was more generalized and widespread. Being a doctor or a nurse or a fireman wouldn't be as appealing or have as much of an impact on a child as a police profession would and Zayn knew it. He swallowed, his tone of voice slightly flat, "That's . . . a nice ambition to have."

Zayn didn't mean a word of it; he wasn't sure what to make of having this young girl, who was the heiress to a fortune and a famous pharmaceutical corporation, having the ambition to pursue such a basic and thankless profession. Surely her family wouldn't approve of such ambitions if she decided to carry them to adulthood.

Genevieve didn't catch onto his lack of sincerity, "Yes, I thought so too. If there are more policemen and women to prevent things we might not need so many other people to fix things after the fact," she was WAY too smart for her age, even she had caught onto the fact their profession was short handed and strained. As if she could miss that fact when their inability to handle THIS crisis was plastered so spectacularly across this city in flesh and blood both living and dead.

Zayn found her responses to be accurate and thought provoking. More than once the station had been either heavily understaffed or so swamped with cases that it was almost impossible for the police to handle them all sufficiently and go out on regular patrols. Budget cuts in the force didn't help things either and it wasn't surprising that some people flat out quit the force because they couldn't deal with the constant stressors. The struggles of the police force were obvious, clearly even to smart children, when bad things happened that they were unable to prevent and it was as much as a government problem as it was a police problem, "Maybe you should grow up into a big time businesswoman and give the police lots of funding. God knows we could do with it," he chuckled at his little joke but realized suddenly how quiet it was. Even Genevieve went silent as he surveyed their surroundings.

It was beyond odd, it was strangely silent and there was no sight or sound of infected of any kind. It left him feeling like something was out there, something that had snuffed out everything in this area and left it a barren void. There was a sharp click of weapons and both he and Devlyn turned to face a squad of six, clad in black leather as dark as their souls – they were the Umbrella Special Services.

* * *

><p>"Hold your fire!" Command hissed as Karena 'Lupo' Lesproux's ear as she brought her U.S.S. issued rifle, code-named the Ravager up into a firing position. Her finger still ghosted along the trigger even as she lowered the sight. Her squad must've gotten the same orders because their actions mirrored her own. Lupo glanced at police officers and the tiny child on the shoulders of the foreign one. Surely Umbrella Command's blood wasn't running cold at the prospect of ordering the death of a child, how many children had this outbreak murdered? Then she got a good look at the child and gaped, "Is that...?"<p>

"Genevieve, President Spencer's only grandchild and heir. She was, IS, a high profile extraction."

Bertha voiced what was on Lupo's mind, "Then what is she still doing here?"

"Operations Director Cain botched a few of the extractions. Wolf Pack, new orders, see Genevieve Spencer safely to her extraction point. Cain wants them to take her to the Raccoon City University but that is for his convenience and forces them to go through a gauntlet of infected. Likely the girl would not make the journey therefore we are routing an extraction helicopter to extract her from the R.P.D helipad. Then kill the cops and proceed to City Hall."

"Objective Confirmed. Proceeding," Lupo lowered her weapon as much as she was willing to and slowly approached the officers didn't lower their own but rather raised them, "Hold your fire, I'm Karena Lesproux, U.S.S. Delta Team Squad Leader. We mean you no harm," _yet_, she added internally. These cops were exactly the loose ends Umbrella wanted tied up and she wondered if they knew that the little girl and the mission she posed was all that kept them from being fired upon now, "We've been assigned to extraction security for the girl."

"She already has a ticket out of here," the foreign one said, ever wary and distrusting, "We are to take her to-"

"—The University," Lupo finished, "We know of your arrangement with Operations Director Cain but the U.S.S. has re-routed one of our own copters to land at the R.P.D. helipad. That's a more reasonable objective I'm sure you'll agree."

The foreign one looked relieved indeed, already they were making the calculation of how much easier it would be to get their precious cargo there versus over the river and through the woods of zombified citizens to get her to the University.

"Is that true?" the young, blond one said.

"Yes, that's Genevieve Spencer, it'll be on our heads if she didn't get to safety and we had the opportunity to do something about it."

It wasn't untrue. Cain had already botched up the extraction of Angela Ashford, Sherry Birkin, and now Genevieve. There was no way to tell how many others he'd missed or how his sloppy work would impact the company. Charles Ashford would likely be downright uncooperative, Sherry Birkin would have been valuable for extortion and coercive techniques on Birkin's widow Annette, and Genevieve was worth her weight in gold and more. If she perished along with the rest and Spencer found out the U.S.S. had a chance of rescuing her then they would all pay dearly from the bottom up, no one would escape the fallout of his fury.

"We can see her to the station," the eldest officer said, obviously distrusting them but there was hostility to his tone.

"We can't do that. We've got our orders and they are to see the girl to safety, consider us your escort as much as we're hers."

* * *

><p>Devlyn glanced at Zayn, silent knowledge passing between them in an instant, they both knew that they were living on borrowed time, once that little girl was gone they had to get the drop on Delta Squad before they got the drop on them. Devlyn looked to Lance hoping he would catch onto reality as quickly as Zayn had but Lance hadn't, he wasn't in sync and think as instinctively with him as Zayn did. It was the type of bond that could only develop from over time through trust and a measure of experience and common sense.<p>

Lance was intelligence as hell and for a long time the R.P.D. had been able to take advantage of his gifts and shield him from 'active service' but that didn't make him ready to survive the likes of this. Devlyn hoped that Lance would catch on before he found himself dead; the Umbrella operatives were looking at him like they had found fresh meat.

For more than the first time this night Devlyn felt like Lance would never survive this city, this night, these circumstances without him or Zayn. Zayn on the other hand would, he was sure of that. Lance's ineptitude aside he was still an R.P.D. officer, still a brother, an annoying one but you didn't ditch your family because they were troublesome and couldn't see the wolves in the woods. In that moment he made a decision, if it came down to a firefight he had to toss his lot in with Lance. Zayn would be fine and would see the light of day without him, he'd taught Zayn all he knew and in many ways Zayn surpassed his own meager skills.

Alone they might be able to fracture and avoid the Umbrella Specials but only together would they survive the city. Decisions, decisions and he only had until Genevieve's evacuation.

* * *

><p>It was with selfish pride that Zayn smirked when Genevieve voiced her preference for him over the Umbrella 'pack'. One of the Umbrella Special Forces had offered to carry her. Genevieve had hastily declined. Perhaps it was because she sensed that he really didn't care about her or maybe she was just unafraid to voice that she didn't like them.<p>

Introductions had been forced and stilted between the two sides. Both squads moved like a well-oiled machines but the tensions between the two sides made it impossible to operate at peak efficiency. In the interest of making things less awkward Lupo had ordered her squad to introduce themselves one at a time. The field scientist had declined to give her REAL name as Lupo had and simply gave them her moniker of 'Four Eyes'; the manner in which she introduced herself set the example that the others followed.

_Clearly, _he thought,_ we aren't on a first name basis, surprise, surprise._

Four Eyes looked emotionally detached save for her fascination with the crisis going on, it was almost like this ruined city was some kind of intellectual playground for her. The medic introduced herself as Bertha and with her face completely covered by her gas mask coupled with the 'tools of her trade' and her black leather armor made her look half like a dominatrix and half mad scientist. If one harbored any doubt based on what they saw of Bertha her tone toed the razor's edge between sadism and apathy. Beltway, the demolitions expert was just as impersonal and demonic as his outward appearance looked. Specter, the surveillance expert, wasn't much for words or the eyes. Vector cloaked in his cowl and armed with blades and firearms radiated a predatory grace that made Zayn both wary and respectful of him. Zayn knew that this one was the one to watch, the most dangerous one but the one to confront if he wanted his allies to survive the jaws of the beast.

The only comfort was that the R.P.D. was their turf, a territory where they would have the home team advantage. They knew it and the Umbrella soldiers didn't. It was the only advantage they had so they sure couldn't afford to make the journey a learning experience for the Umbrella operatives.

Genevieve was oddly quiet during the whole experience, which he found strange. It was true that since she'd been found again and promptly told her situation was unchanged she had been giving them the 'silence treatment' but it wasn't until he felt all her weight slump against his back while he was climbing up the main hall's emergency ladder that his worries reached there peak.

_Something's wrong_, he thought with alarm, panic surging to life.

Behind him he heard Lupo say to the medic, "Something's wrong with the girl. Get up there, I want a debrief by the time I'm up there."

Bertha double-timed it up the ladder behind him in that time he'd already gone ahead and was passing through a door into the next room. It was a Waiting Room; behind a curved oak desk with a computer would normally have sat one receptionist. The waiting room was one that both Devlyn and Zayn were familiar with, it was a waiting room for those needing or wanting to see the Raccoon City Chief Brian Irons. For Zayn it was neither of need or want but rather discipline, he had only sat his ass here when Devlyn had convinced him, for better or worse, put up with Iron's bullshit for the cause. Whereas for more than a few times Devlyn had sat patiently to ask or plead Irons for support, most of the times Devlyn was unsuccessful making all the time he spent waiting wasted. Zayn gently pulled her off his back and laid her gently on the couch.

"You couldn't wait?" her German accent was thick as was her disregard; clearly she was disgusted by the sentimentality he already bestowed upon the child.

"I wanted her to be comfortable," he said defensively, "Can you take off the damn mask?"

Zayn didn't want Genevieve to regain consciousness and see a sinisterly masked individual hanging over her. The medic didn't answer him, she didn't need to it was very clear she found him disruptive. She simply pulled out a needle and reached to plunge it into the girl's arm. Zayn caught her arm and yanked it back. The woman pulled against his grip but he was able to overpower her, "Gentle with her," his tone was a menacing warning.

"Gentleness is not necessary with the unconscious."

"Gentleness is always necessary, especially with children, they aren't as resilient as adults."

"May I do my work now or does my companion have to restrain you?"

"He can try..."

"Your fear permeates even through your bravado. I don't believe in the use of painkillers and sedatives but with one injection I could put you down so far you would never see the light of day again," she finished plunging in the needle and then it flashed a holographic projection of growth, many growths wriggling and writhing, "Holy shit, if she was infected she certainly isn't anymore."

"What are those?" Lupo came forward, pointing the muzzle of the gun at the screen.

"T-viral antibodies, the growth is more than abundant its excessive. If the virus was here, it's completely eradicated and NEVER would have stood a chance."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Venom detected by the scans but I would know without it," she said, raising the girl's wrist and indicating the darkened skin from the graze of the snake's fang, "rapid degradation of skin tissue indicative of necrotic venom. Administering anti-venom to halt and cure it. Good thing the girl went unconscious, otherwise we might've never known and the girl might have had to loss the hand."

Bertha sounded more like she rued the loss of not taking Genevieve's hand than she did about saving her from that, as though a mid-mission amputation was just what was needed to spice things up. The woman was a true sadist...

* * *

><p>The remainder of the way, Zayn carried Genevieve cradled against his chest like a baby. He knew that he should be figuring out how he was going to avoid the jaws of the beast but he wouldn't be able to until she was well on her way out of this mess. Lupo took point, opening the door and angled her pistol side to side rapidly as she led the way into the helipad. Devlyn followed and they both fired at the two infected officers. Overhead a chopper's approach could be heard. Lance brought up the rear and Devlyn lingered towards Lance and the door.<p>

Zayn wished he had the luxury of preemptive planning, he was going to be near the chopper and the Umbrella operatives were securing the helipad. _Fuck_, he thought, getting boxed in by specialist in their chosen fields was not something he wanted to do. Bertha's fingertips lingered along the length of her blade, her mask tilted in his direction Zayn could almost sense she was smiling at him the way a predator smiles as its prey.

Patiently he stepped forward as a few members got out. Two females and a male, one of the females and the male had assault rifles at the ready as they got out followed by a third female's. Her arms were extended out but she retracted them when she saw the graze of fang on the girl's wrist as she approached. In an instant her rifle was trained on Genevieve, as were her compatriots' rifles. Zayn brought her back into the protective fold of his arms and shouted loud enough to be heard over the whirl of the helicopter blades, "She's not bitten!"

"The cop is right," Bertha said, "its venom, an anti-venom was administered but the dispensing an antidote would be better for her."

Even with the vouch from one of their own they kept their weapons trained, "Get those damn guns out of my face and get her out of here or she'll die! Unless YOU want to explain to old man Spencer as to why you went and abandoned his blood HERE in this god forsaken place on a fucking theory or hunch about why she is ill!"

The pilot's voice, coming from the cockpit, was the one who got the others to back down, "Command says to bring her no matter her condition."

To his surprise Genevieve murmured a weak protest and held onto his uniform as tight as she could, "I don't want to go with them, I want to stay with you."

Zayn pressed a kiss to Genevieve's forehead, it was warm, clearly the venom had worked up a temperature, "Veve, you're sick, you need to get out of here and get better," he gently but firmly pried her fingers from his jacket and shrugged it off, wrapping it around her.

"I want you to go with me then."

That brought a small smile to Zayn's face, "Genevieve, I can't do that, I need to find your mother and you need to get better for the both of us. Please," he pleaded with her.

Genevieve's eyes fluttered open, the light in them exhausted and weak, she nodded reluctantly and Zayn went pass the guards and gingerly laid her down, the three returned to sit on the craft as it took off. Once the helicopter was on its way he scarcely had time to turn around before he heard guns loaded and locked on them: on him, on Lance, and on Devlyn. Zayn wanted to look to Devlyn but he knew it would be a mistake so he kept focused on his enemies. Lupo gaze never left them as she delivered the sentence, "Kill them all."


	11. Jaws of the Beast

Before she had started uttering the command Zayn had his hand on the trip mine, armed it, and threw it forcefully like a Frisbee. It clung to the wall behind them and instantly triggered. At the same time he had hear Devlyn yell the warning of 'FLARE', Zayn scarcely had time to close his eyes. Zayn kept them closed and ran blindly towards the general direction of the stairs. Zayn snapped them open and jumped over the railing of the second story onto the ground floor and instantly pelted off. He didn't look back, he didn't run in the straight line, and he took advantage of cover wherever he was able. Devlyn and Lance weren't utilizing the same escape he couldn't hear their footsteps in his mad dash. He heard the footsteps and gunfire of pursuit as he angled inside a door.

Two zombies were in the hallway, shuffling about. The closer one turned and he delivered a kick that sent it away and down sprawling into the other one. A length of chain and a padlock hung. Zayn knew most wouldn't lock themselves in with a zombie or two but in this case the zombies were the lesser of two evils. The zombies were a rectifiable problem they would be easy to kill, the Umbrella Specials were not. Zayn linked the chain and wound it so tightly that it wouldn't give for the muzzle of a firearm or sidearm and padlocked the length of it. He drew his own high-powered handgun and leveled it with the head of the zombies as they strode towards him. Two shots and they were down; behind him he heard the door rattle but it didn't give. Zayn knew that wouldn't hold them off for long, they would find a way around it. He needed to get out of here now!

Zayn slowed down a bit though, if he kept running he wouldn't have energy to escape when he really needed it and Umbrella's soldiers weren't the only things out there. Devlyn and Lance were likely making their flight from the second floor and Zayn knew that Devlyn would be gathering and taking every scrap of evidence he could find with him and Lance. _I should do the same_, and proceeded with caution more than speed. He needed to collect the evidence of his and Devlyn's investigation and of this outbreak. If anything was left here he didn't hazard that it would last the scourge of the Umbrella mercenaries that would be traversing these halls. Devlyn could handle the second floor but it was crucial he wouldn't miss anything on the first. A majority of the offices and evidence rooms were on the first floor.

As he went down the length of hall known as the Watchman's Hallway it was tempting, so very tempting to angle towards the basement, break into the armory, and really give those Umbrella spooks a greeting but doing so would cost time, time in which evidence would be burnt into oblivion. Zayn opened the door of what was called the Eastern office; mainly cops called it Office #2. Give a rookie cop directions to take something to the eastern office and they gave you a blank look or took it to the wrong place but if you associated the number with it they knew to go to the office two doors away from the main hall. Office #1 was one door away from the main hall, it worked and it beat the hell out of having to do the job over again because they didn't know where the hell they were going.

A quick scan of Office #2 revealed little to nothing, and he plowed ahead. Perhaps plowed ahead wasn't the word but he was caught in a limbo between being cautious and being quick on his feet. He wanted, no he NEEDED to keep the lead because on his own he was as good as dead and that did a whole lot of good for no one but Umbrella and they could fuck off after what they did to turn this town into a hellhole. After seeing the long stretch of the second office hallway was clear he made a left and went through the doors into the main hall. Then a shot went whizzing by his head, he instantly leveled the muzzle of his firearm prepared to return fire when he heard a familiar voice.

"Lance, hold your fire," when he heard Devlyn lowered it again. He was going to have to do something about this growing trend of Lance attempting to shoot his ass. He understood that what was going on was enough to make anyone jumpy but he was going to be plain pissed off if his ass got shot in a case of friendly fire.

"Zayn, we don't have a lot of time. We need to empty this place of whatever it has to give us on Umbrella. I want you to hit the Evidence Room and our Office, Lance will hit the Library, and I'll hit the Filing Room and Photo lab."

Zayn knew better than to say anything, he made a run for it. Evidence Room was priority. As he was crossing the hallway he heard the opening of the doors and in came a few of the Umbrella brigade. Devlyn and Lance provided covering fire enough for him to escape. Once on the other side he shot out the reception windows and pressed an emergency lock meant to lock any problems in the front hall enough to secure the precinct. He heard the click of reinforced locks and deadbolts. It wouldn't stop them forever but they wouldn't be catching up as quickly either. _Time,_ he bought them time, _the only question is how much . . ._

* * *

><p>To say that she had procrastinated this was a grave understatement. Even as she walked up to the large rotating doors she didn't want to go through them. Bad enough the city was a shadow of its former self but inside these walls were painful memories - the bitter distance of a father and daughter and the uncertain guilt of secrets kept from her beloved spouse. Her secrecy had spared her Father, a man she loathed at the cost of the spouse she had loved and now the secrets were bared for all to see anyways so she had lied and he had died for nothing. Did his spirit even now haunt the halls he'd walked a few short months ago? Did that spirit now despise her intrusion? These thoughts plaguing her caused her immense emotional pain but she deserved it, she never should have kept him in the dark and she lost him because of it. Valete wanted to believe he was in a better place but she doubted it – she believed in science not religion and there was nothing to suggest an afterlife or heaven existed. However if one existed, Kaplan definitely deserved a place in it.<p>

The soft click-clack of her heels on the concrete alerted a fallen corpse trapped inside the rotating doors, it pushed against the glass, vying to get to her. A bite from him couldn't infect what was already infected but she was better prey than nothing and it was hungry. A grisly moan spilt from its lips as it pushed against the glass, moving the door to rotate her in. She stepped free of the door in the main lobby, a few others were slowly shuffling about. She could avoid them all but she wouldn't, it wasn't right to leave anyone like this. She holstered her handgun as she turned on the closest. As the door came around full turn it stumbled and fell at her feet and as it started to get up to lunge for her leg Valete drew her largest blade, the machete and brought the hilt down on it at the base of the skull. She heard a grunt accompanied by a crack and the body fell forward. The finishing blow was a sharp stomp on the neck, her heel severing its spinal cord.

A downward glance confirmed that her shoes were ruined, the heel was bloody and gore stained. In hindsight she should've changed from her heels into something more suitable for flight and fights. Oh well, she'd have to make do and her footwear was the least of her problems. Two shots ended the life of the two furthest and she crossed the lobby towards the last. She avoided its attempt to grapple her and she spun behind it, grabbed its neck, and gave its neck a hard jerk until she heard the sickening crack of a spinal column snapping under pressure. She released the dead weight and waltzed into the first floor office of U.S.F. Alpha Team.

The office was alien to her; she had never visited Kaplan at work. As if her father's disapproval hadn't been enough Kaplan's superior 'One' didn't approve of personal life in the profession or so Kaplan had told her. It had been a reason they had kept calls to a minimum as well but she could tell which desk was Kaplan's. His was so unlike the others, so neat and organized covered more by the technology of his trade than by the weapons. The only desk more clean and sterile than Kaplan's was one isolated towards the far wall which she was willing to bet was the desk belonging to 'One'. A small adjoining room had what appeared to be a surgical table with a small desk crammed in the tiny room and she was willing that belonged to the Russian medic Olga Danilova, _Fayth's sister_, she thought. Two long tables separated by partitions to give them the appearance of conjoined desks were messy with traces of scopes, weapon cartridges, ammunition boxes and clips. They must've belonged the four others of Kap's team: Rain, J.D., Alfonso, and Vance.

As she made her way to Kaplan's desk at the far end of the room opposite of One's desk she noticed a photograph of a man and what looked like his sibling. A frown coming on her face as she recognized the woman as fitting the description Vance gave their shared home voicemail when offering to 'set them up'. It had been a point of contention once she had found out about it. There marriage had been as hidden as it could be, the general public knew she was married to a common middle-class man but not to whom specifically, which was a miracle in itself. The media had left that alone due in no small part to her father's decision to disapprove in silence than to outwardly forbid her marriage altogether. If the media had sensed growing conflict they would have beaten the subject until they wrestled a name and had it plastered across tabloids. Kaplan's team had assumed that when he didn't speak of wife or family that he was a lost cause that could need help in the 'department' so she had to suffer in her own silence while his teammates made overtures for Kaplan.

Valete didn't doubt him, not truly but there had always been the fear, the uncertainty that he would find one of them enticing or enthralling enough that he would wake up one day and wonder why he wanted her and the life she gave him. It never came to that but even now she wondered if their marriage would have survived had he returned whole and well from the Hive after seeing what he no doubt saw and knowing what he knew. She didn't want to know and thinking about it, like many other emotional thoughts, was a complete waste of time. Closure was not a luxury she had, he was never coming back and because of that there would be no more words, no more actions, no more decisions, no more anything!

She placed the photo of Vance and his stunningly beautiful sister face down on the desk before taking a seat at Kaplan's and starting to rummage through it. In the bottom-most drawer of the desk was a case, which she opened; she wasn't surprised it was still there – a grenade launcher loaded with incendiary rounds. Kaplan was practical and no doubt he saw no point in taking it with him on missions based on what he had known but she, she had known better. Valete had known worse things were out there than humanoid enemies and she'd given him this impractical weapon so that he had the means to fight any atypical foes he'd encounter in his line of work. If only he had taken it with at the least he could've taken out a few big enemies or a few mobs of infected. Maybe it would have been enough to bring him back to her and to Genevieve. She shook her head to disperse the thought; well she wasn't going to be so naïve. She was fairly certain a use for it would manifest. She pulled it out the case and slung it over her shoulder as she returned her attention to the desk.

In a small drawer she found a hidden portrait of the three of them from two years ago. Genevieve was five then and it was autumn. The background showed the orange and red glory of a tree that they had chosen for their fall picnic. Kaplan's arms were around her waist, pulling her in close as Genevieve slung her arms tight around Kaplan's neck from behind with a smile. More evidence of a happier time, she knew she should leave it behind but it held no significance for anyone save herself and Genevieve. If anything she should take it on the off chance she'd get an opportunity to give it to Veva, the girl deserved to be reminded of how much she was loved.

Valete sat down at the desk, her elbows perched on the surface and her hands entwined as she carefully took advantage of the peace and quiet of the abandoned office to consider her next move. It would be smart to check out City Hall and the local Precinct for information, they'd be the most likely to possess intel vital to Umbrella which meant it would serve to expose them just fine.

Technically if Iron's did his job for the Birkins then the police would possess little but she didn't put it pass the crooked Chief to have his own stash of secrets ready and waiting for a fresh blackmail attempt. At the very least she knew that Irons had been preparing for a political campaign for the Raccoon City mayor ship and expected that he had something to encourage Umbrella to continue their 'partnership' with him for the foreseeable future. It was sure worth a try, Irons might think his control was absolute but the only absolute when it came to Irons was that he was an absolutely incompetent asshole – made a helluva combination but in this case that could only help. Irons staff couldn't have stayed ignorant for long, not if the precinct's force intended to survive.

Valete hoped that when she got there she'd find a force hidden in the fortifications. If the gates were secured they'd only have to deal with the threats within, then they could barricade the weaker spots such as windows and ventilation ducts. _A false sense of safety . . . and you KNOW this. _

A momentary pang of guilt coursing her, even a fortified position was stalling the inevitable they might survive the infected but the city would defeat them. Umbrella might wait a bit longer to get what they could out of this mess but she knew better, this was already irrevocable and out of even their hands. The city would be destroyed and everyone and everything within it. No doubt Umbrella had closed off all the routes out of the city and would hold a firm ruthless grip on all transportation to and from the city. No one would get out unless they wanted it or so they think. _I could get survivors out of the city but is it worth the risk. _

It was a dilemma she didn't get to puzzle long, footsteps outside the door sounded before she heard the turn of a knob, the creak of the door opening sounded as she bounded for cover beneath her husband's desk. Opening a door was definitely beyond the infected who would just bang repeatedly against a surface until it yielded but she preferred not to assume that the individual was friendly. Bleakly she realized she had NO one she could consider an ally, which was hardly a promising realization in an outbreak. Hidden as she was she couldn't gather clues about who was in the room with her. But in the corner attached to the ceiling she saw a camera, if only she had access to the keyboard and screen without revealing herself but the camera nevertheless gave her a good idea. She carefully rummaged for a pocket mirror, carefully lifting up the small and minuscule instrument over the edge of the desk.

Using the reflective circle to scout the room for the other intruder. She homed in on the person; it was a woman or either a very small man dressed in black. She lifted the mirror higher and was rewarded with the revelation of more: a dark braid with pale skin, a slight yet lithe form radiating dangerous predatory intent, and suddenly a face to go with it. A shot rang out across the office, shattering the mirror she'd been palming. The shock of Fayth's revelation compounding the shock of the bullet piercing her palm, the pain was searing and made worse by the glass shards slicing and embedding in her skin. For a few moments all she could do was sit in her crawlspace under the desk cradling her hand but then survival kicked in – she had to flee. NOW! She dropped the remains of the mirror and ignoring the pain of her hand she brought up her gun and shot for the legs. Her bullet must've connected because Fayth went down and she went running. Fayth cried out and two shots rang out and just barely missed her feet.

As she fled she shot the security lock and the malfunctioning electronic lock auto-activated, locking her pursuer in. She ran as fast as her legs would allow. Her impulse was to lick her wounds by way of removing the bullet, glass, and plastic but it had to wait until it was safe. Whatever could be considered safe in this city, at any rate the precinct was looking more viable and more attractive by the minute. This wound had to get cleaned and dressed, she couldn't keep bleeding or she'd attract everything within two to three miles of her. She needed to stay off the general access roads were they'd be roaming freely which meant she needed to be off the streets. She removed her heels and threw them where they landed at the base of the revolving door then she padded upstairs in her bare feet.

Her passage was now more silent which was good when she was bleeding she could afford to summon trouble upon herself by making noise. The infection held no sway but like anyone else she could be eaten alive and she didn't want to invite that by making unnecessary noise. She eyed her mangled hand, badly she wanted to find a secure place and clean it up but told herself internally to stop her bitching and move on. Her handgun at the ready, poised for confrontation. Her grip on it was hardly expert but it was steady enough. Unfortunately she felt anything but steady on the inside. She was utterly rattled which was a foreign feeling for her, most likely brought on by the pain splitting through her hand with each and every tremor that coursed through it.

It in no way made her ready for the Crimson Head that ran down the hall at her, shrieking all the way. She attempted to shoot it but her remaining hand was not steady enough for the task and her firearm's rate of fire wasn't enough to keep up. Every time she missed a shot it covered ground, unhindered and unabated. It collided with her and forced her to the ground with such force that it knocked the breath out of her. The only saving grace she had going for her was that an adrenaline rush kicked in and that her hand was bleeding. The bleeding was what had attracted it but right now it was something she was thankful for, it was saving her from having her throat ripped out.

Its sharp fangs tore into the flesh of her hand and she shoved it into its mouth with a hard jerk. The overwhelming scent of decay was pulled into her nostrils, instantly sickening her as she pushed against it repeatedly in an attempt to wrestle its weight off her. It wouldn't budge; the man in a mangled suit outweighed her a great deal and was using that weight to great effect against her. She continued to push with her injured hand while her good one scrabbled across the smooth marble floor for her weapon. Pain lanced through her, a consistent complaint as she slid her fingers over the metal and around the handle. Ignoring the fact it would bathe her in its blood she placed it against the hyper zombie's head and fired. It slackened against her and she instantly pushed it off her, disgusted.

She felt unclean and in more way than one. Even with all her shots and vaccines up to date and with her immunity she had never been infected with a contaminated strain. Her infection with the T virus had always been clean, a simple injection and done. Her hand was bleeding profusely, mangled beyond the point of use, it might heal if she got around to taking care of it but it would inevitably leave an ugly scar. A scar to remember the trauma by, she only hoped that the guy didn't have anything she could contract beside the T virus.

Valete curled her arms about herself, ever so shaken and almost to the point she didn't want to get up which was stupid. If she stayed here, sitting on the floor uselessly like this she would be dead and long before the nukes hit. The only thing left to lament was that her appearance was truly ruined as well: her shoes were gone sacrificed in the hope of misleading her pursuer, her outfit was smeared with decay, sweat, and blood, and her confidence rattled to the point it was shattered into a million pieces.

_Courage isn't the absence of fear but rather knowing that something is more important than that fear. _

She had something, someone more important than what had happened in the here and now. _I am alive, the monster is dead, _she was here and it was expired on the cold stone floor at her feet. _The past is in the past_, she needed to bury her fear here, it would serve no purpose save to get her killed later on. She rose serenely detached as her rationale slid back into dominance. These were all small, foolish worries and she was better than that. She had all the knowledge she needed to survive this and all she had to do was apply it to the outbreak. The mobs may be endless but she would deal with them accordingly. That was her mandate and it gave her all the purpose to go on.

* * *

><p>"SHIT!"<p>

Internally she added a few more for good measure, _Shit, shit, shit!_

Shooting at her had been a hasty and ill-considered decision, stupid and driven by an impulse of revenge. What had she seriously expected? Certainly NOT that! She had expected that Valete would cringe, too cowardly to flee or fight and she had NEVER thought the woman capable of handling a firearm let alone shooting one. She wanted to say that Valete's shot just below the kneecaps was beginner's luck but decided that she had underestimated Valete, no, the Empress long enough. There had been calculation in her gaze when she returned fire, she knew where to shoot and what it would do and now she was locked in this office while her prey fled to safety.

_Great job, Fayth_, it was a decision that almost ranked up with her decision to destroy her relationship with Zayn for Umbrella. It had been an opportunity, an opportunity that landed her with Umbrella's best at the expense of the only guy she could ever recall truly loving.

At the time she'd made the gamble she'd been so sure he'd be smart, she'd been hoping he'd ditch his partner along with his employment as an overworked but underpaid officer for a real job worthy of his skills. Zayn was an unknown to them, too young and fresh to have made a name or reputation but they had understood that if Zayn hung himself as a police officer to do a favor for them that they would have to give him some sort of favor in return.

However when she delivered Umbrella's offer he hadn't only said 'no' but rather 'HELL NO'. He rejected the job offer and told her to get the fuck out. That was her hard lesson that it was 'bros over hoes', Zayn's loyalty to Devlyn meant more than her and all the wealth, opportunity, prestige, and power promised by Umbrella. They'd never talked again – a condition that had been set by him and one she'd never tested. If she loved him she figured she owed him that much.

Truth be told she couldn't say she was unhappy at the idea of leaving Raccoon City behind, it was hardly the best thing to ever happen to her. Her recollection of Zayn and their torrid affair made her wonder about Zayn. Realistically he'd probably shared the fate of every other officer she'd seen, infected and mindless but she wanted to believe he wasn't dead yet, that he was out there fighting.

It was the spasm of pain that brought her back out of her reverie and into reality, which was a bitch by the way. Thanks to the AI she was likely going to be limping all the way after her ass. Fayth used the edge of the desk to support herself as she used her upper body strength to push herself up. Gingerly she put weight and was instantly rewarded with a pulsing knot of pain as she collided with a wall. Using the wall for support she made her way into the operating room. She fumbled for medical supplies out of her sister's stash. Everything was neurotically sterile; it was something she hadn't shared with her sister but she was thankful for it now.

Fayth turned on the overhead light and reclined on the operating table. The bullet was lodged several inches below the kneecap and dug in – it wasn't huge but it was a hindrance. Fayth carefully enlarged the wound enough to dig out the bullet, gritting her teeth as she burrowed into the wound until she dug out the bullet. It rolled out of the wound and onto the operating table with a clatter. Fayth crudely poured alcohol over the wound in steady stream, ignoring the sting of pain as the chemical seeped into the bloody chasm and followed up by tightly binding the leg. She pushed herself off the table, biting off a groan as her leg protested her weight upon it. Impressed with her medical handiwork no matter how crude it seemed she set herself to the task of escaping the room.

Hacking was out of the question; computers were never a strong suit of hers. A quick appraisal of what she was up against gave her a few angles to work around that disadvantage. Explosives were her forte and she just happened to have some C4 and detonators. The door was reinforced and unlikely to budge. Umbrella did little half assed, they had the best they could afford and they could afford the best but they had the flaw of underestimating the ingenious, which meant they overlooked something in their design. Doors and windows were typical route of break ins but weren't the SOLE route. Fayth was willing to bet the walls were sturdy and made of premier building material but that they weren't on par with the door and were therefore destructible. She pulled out the C4 and affixed it to the wall then pulled away as far as she possibly could. Upon ignition of the explosive she was rewarded with a view of the lobby.

The hole was small but not too small, Fayth carefully clambered through bringing her bad leg out after her. A quick inspection of her surroundings confirmed that she was utterly alone. It looked like Valete had cleared out the lobby before moving on. It gave Fayth time to acclimate herself to her lamed leg. It was a trivial wound but already enough of a handicap that she was more than ready to pay the AI back in spades so she wasted little time looking around. The AI had stripped off her shoes, chucking them at the door. That could be true or a ploy, Fayth wasn't sure which but indecision wouldn't benefit her here. She had to make a decision before she lost any more time. If the trail went cold it wouldn't be likely that she'd find her in a timely matter and she didn't intend to spend any more time in this city than she had to. Upstairs was a dead end of sorts, unless she was an acrobat extraordinaire or had wings she wasn't going anywhere up there. Valete was hardly athletic so it was with confidence that she moved onto the streets.

* * *

><p>Devlyn and Lance had provided cover fire as long as they could but ultimately were forced into retreat. The Umbrella operatives had the numbers and it certainly showed in their rate of fire. It was either stay and be shot or move on. Lance knew the library well so Devlyn wasted no time in ditching him and making a quick sprint for the photography lab. On the way there he sprinted past the S.T.A.R.S. office, a quick moment of indecision took over him.<p>

The S.T.A.R.S. had briefly investigated the murders after Irons had forced him and Zayn to surrender the investigation to them. Though Devlyn doubted anything of the investigation was left in their office after Irons hung them out to dry there was always the chance that someone had been sloppy or made a mistake. When the S.T.A.R.S. had returned and reported what they had found Irons and the rest of the precinct had promptly denied their claims and ordered that their reports be seized and restricted until they could be used to settle on an appropriate disciplinary action. Irons wasn't the type to oversee this menial task to completion and therefore probably left it to some paper-pushing desk jockey that half assed it and hopefully left something behind. That is what he was fervently hoping as he pushed open the door.

_A quick detour, _he decided, _a quick look around the office to verified there is no evidence to be had or lost and then move on to the photography lab. _He opened the door and did a quick sweep to verify no infected existed in the office. When satisfied that the office was, more or less, safe he started perusing for information more specific in nature. The office was a derelict mess, personal effects littered the walls and desks, documentation and reports laid strewn around the floor but none of them pertained to what was being called the 'Mansion Incident'. As he looked around the office looking for evidence of what ruined the S.T.A.R.S. reputation and credibility Devlyn's eye fell upon a smooth wooden case. Devlyn knew this case and what he'd find in there but opened it regardless. His eyes fell upon a weapon of design unmatched – the Samurai Edge, a weapon that had been meant for him. His name was etched upon the case, it had been given to him the day he'd received an inter-departmental promotion to join S.T.A.R.S., an invitation he'd promptly turned down.

It had been a difficult decision for him, joining S.T.A.R.S. truly would have been a prestigious rise to his lackluster career but it wouldn't have left him the time to pursue his ambitious vendetta for the truth. It was a decision that also would've left Zayn's career in limbo. Zayn had already transferred from his previous precinct and moved to Raccoon City to be the new partner and protégé of a well respected 'war horse' in the homicide department. Devlyn didn't doubt Zayn could hold his own in the field but in the office was another thing altogether.

Considering what happened, in hindsight his decision had been for the best for them both. If he had accepted he would've been disgraced with the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. and then pushed into considering early retirement or a transferred to some distant locale. Zayn's career would be over before it had truly started, without employment to return to and with no mentor to guide him he would've been gone as quickly as he came. Iron's wouldn't have left it at that though, he was a vindictive ass that would've seen a free spirit like Zayn ruined to the point he'd never work law enforcement again – an utter waste.

A quick scan of the office revealed there was nothing else to be had, Irons either had everything locked down or the S.T.A.R.S. had seen to emptying their desks of anything beneficial to clearing their names. A shame but if there was nothing here, he needed to be on his way. Devlyn glanced again at the open case and felt a stirring conflict. It was a perfectly good weapon and something they might very well need before they get out of this hell hole but it was something created for members of S.T.A.R.S. and he certainly wasn't a member. True he'd never been told to return the weapon when he'd turned down the promotion in fact Captain Wesker had told him to keep it when he went to the trouble of returning the customized handgun. Devlyn hadn't listened then but he decided he was going to now; he'd take whatever would help them survive. Now was not the time to have scruples about whether he was worthy of the firearm. Devlyn grabbed the gun and left, swiftly traversing the S.T.A.R.S. hallway and entering an adjoining hallway. The hallway had a bust of a warrior gripping a crimson gem and he was flanked on either side by two equally ugly busts.

Devlyn never understood Iron's taste, in how he considered the repulsive and repugnant art lining the walls and floors to be beautiful but he wasn't nearly so naïve about how he afforded the lavish displays. It was no secret that Irons made too much on the side and therefore it was obvious he took bribes, lucrative bribes from the only ones who could afford to 'buy' his loyalty. A shame that Irons did such a great job of hiding the actual evidence, the Raccoon City PD could have done with a reversal in leadership if what happened to this city was anything to go off of.

Devlyn bypassed the statutes and went down the stairs. Once he reached the photography lab he filled an entire pack with any and all film he could find pertaining to the Umbrella. It wasn't much either, most likely Irons had taken advantage of the crisis and purged the last of the evidence or someone got to it before he could. Disappointed, he bagged what he could and made a run for the filing room. As he entered he heard rustling and carefully aimed as he rounded the corner only to see Lance rummaging through the drawers. He gave Devlyn a shaky smile, "Hey, Dev, I got done early and thought you could use some help. I know this place pretty well." Devlyn relaxed, holstering his firearm, "I'll bet you do," Lance was clearly a liability in the field but he was gold considering what they were doing now, "that would be a welcome." Hell, Lance knew more about what was down here than he did.

Lance had some sort of case and was hastily jamming the papers as neatly as he could. At the same time he kept darting his attention to a computer in the corner, a quick look confirmed that Lance was emptying the RPD's digital database too. It also wasn't going as fast as either of them wanted it to. In the distance a loud noise could be heard and he was willing to bet the Umbrella mercs were either demolishing an obstacle or breaking down the hastily made barricades. Then the door opened and Zayn came through, pure adrenaline coursing through him as he swiftly aimed at them. When he realized who they were he lowered his weapons, "Don't want to pressure you guys but we need to get a move on."

"I need more time," Lance snapped, he was by far under the most pressure in this moment so neither Devlyn nor Zayn called him on it.

"Then we buy it," Zayn said, as though it were really THAT simple, "we have something they want," he said pointing to what they had accumulated, "Let's grab it, make a showy run of it."

Devlyn glanced at Zayn trying to communicate his misgivings about his reckless plan. Sending that much evidence with one person into the unknown was risky. What if Umbrella succeeded or he was ambushed by infected then everything would be lost. And Lance, he couldn't be left alone with everything he still had to recover.

"I'm volunteering," Zayn clarified, as if Devlyn didn't know him well enough to know he'd volunteer for this most reckless sort of bravery. Devlyn knew he'd been planning to volunteer the moment he'd come up with the idea.

"I understand that but I don't think it's a good idea," he said choosing to be brutally honest, "if you did this and you were lost we'd lose everything," he finished matter-of-factly.

"I won't lose it all, I'm not dying to them."

"I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about what else is out there and all that will be stacked against you. Plenty of good men have been lost and I'm not losing you Zayn. If it came down to sticking it to Umbrella or you safe I'd sooner we take what we have and leave NOW."

"You don't mean that. Dev, look what they've done! We can't afford to let them creep away from this without consequences. You know that better than anyone. Trust me in this, I won't let you down."

Devlyn sighed in resignation.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, carrying a fortune of contraband evidence, Zayn crept through Office #1 and carefully touched the latch on the door. It made an audible click that he knew would echo through the whole main hall. Zayn heard muted steps, the slight movement of firearms and knew they were getting into position. The police department was too big and too much of it was either closed off or a complete mystery to them. So clearly they had decided to lay in wait knowing they had to come out into the open eventually. The only thing not in his favor was the fact he didn't know how many were lined up against him on the other side. Was it Six? Four? Two? Zayn couldn't tell from sound alone which meant he had to fall back on his bravado. He'd come in low and use the reception desk for cover.<p>

Zayn kicked open the door and dived for the desk as shots whizzed pass him. A blade materialized in his periphery and he rolled, drawing his own knife and stabbing up into the arm, his blade embedded itself deep in the flesh and his close quarters attacker cried out in pain and withdrew so quickly it ripped the hilt out of his hand. He didn't have time to ponder retrieving it but used the lapse to get up and sprint for the door, shooting as he swept across the lobby and outside. Infected swarmed the courtyard. Zayn ignored them and made a run for the main gate. Jumping up onto the cars clogging Street and jumping from hood to roof as he navigated past the bottleneck of vehicles, bodies, and infected.

Zayn hung back just long enough to see the infected swarming the Umbrella forces, no doubt for that bleed wound he'd given his close combat opponent. That move had not been well thought out but considering their lack of knowledge about him and Devlyn it wasn't a surprising one. They probably just assumed they were two ordinary small-time cops. _Devlyn was born into privilege and I was a child assassin, we both closed those chapters of our lives to become vigilantes of justice and Umbrella and their lackeys have no idea what they're up against._ No idea.

As he watched Umbrella dispatch the infected, he saw that their numbers swelled from two to four. Zayn remained around until they caught sight of him and resumed the pursuit. It looked like it was going to be laughably easy to manipulate these Umbrella agents into a game of predator and prey. _Take a care to know which you are . . ._ he thought as he drew one of his hidden blades, weapons of his former trade. Habits died hard especially those you don't really intend to shed. His past was hardly honorable but it was effective means to an end - namely theirs. Zayn made sure they were tailing him as he led them up Warren and into the night of the living dead.

* * *

><p>Valete finally reached the rooftop of the Umbrella building. She'd spent the journey up each flight of stairs reviewing her priorities meticulously. Medical was first, she needed to disinfect and bind her wounds it was what happened after that concerned her. Since she'd already come to the decision that Umbrella could go to hell it was a matter of deciding how to help survivors, if there were any. That was an option that seemed less and less likely as she had yet to run into anyone alive. An impulse in her told her to put down the infected and leave it at that but a fruitless genocide was hardly an efficient use of her time especially when Umbrella would be destroying the city in its entirety.<p>

The town was a lost cause, which meant Umbrella would only delay long enough to recover what they can and eliminate whoever they could along the way. There was no doubt in her mind that the less that Umbrella recovered, the better off the world would be though it would be still be a world without Raccoon City. The best thing that she could do was make sure that her father's legacy smoldered to nothing with Raccoon City. It was time to return to the labs, she looked around, knowing that every roof had to have some way down in case of fire escape, it was simply finding it that was the trouble.

As she was actively looking she heard a helicopter flying overhead and below it was carrying a pallet of metallic tanks. Valete gaze desperately searched for what classification of tank was being dispersed and her eyes fell upon 'MA-121'

"Shit!" she hastily attempted to hide, knowing what was in the tank and that they were being deployed for hunting hence their namesake but it was too late, the helicopter's light saw her dash but not her, they would not recognize her from the distance between them. She withdrew her handgun while her eyes scoured for something she could use to fight off the monster she couldn't hope to outrun or hide from. The tank was dropped and it caved in the roof, falling thorough to the next floor. Valete stayed, trying to keep her hand steady so when it climbed back up she'd be ready to shoot it but nerves and blood loss made it difficult.

The Hunter surfaced with a shriek and lunged for her, hunting her by scent and sound. A shot rang out but the bullet was nothing, a glancing wound that burrowed into its shoulder as it knocked her down and attempted to slash at her. Adrenaline was the great equalizing counterpart to her nerves, allowing her that extra burst needed to avoid being eviscerated by it. Blood welling beneath her shirt let her know she hadn't escaped unscathed and pain sliced through her as she got up and ran. The Hunter turned swiftly and lunched for her again forcing her to dive out of the way. The impact forced the air from her and she heard it shriek behind her. Slowed by her wound she barely rolled out of the way. The Hunter claws embedded in the stone of the roof buying her the time to rise and put distance between them. No shot would kill it out right but as she aimed at the Hunter she saw a gas meter behind it.

Valete pulled out the grenade launcher, the round ruptured the meter and ignited the gas. As the explosion echoed through the night she saw the Hunter pushed back by the force of the explosion and it fell. A quick look over the side confirmed that the Hunter survived, crashing into the hood of a vehicle. As it scrambled to regain its footing Valete saw Fayth glance upwards and without hesitation she fired directly at her. Unwilling to add being shot again to her list of injuries she quickly made a run for the fire escape stairwell leaving the Hunter to turn its fury upon her adversary.

* * *

><p><em>I was wrong! <em>DAMN IT!

Fayth had recognized her quarry from her silhouette alone, even injured and desperate Valete was still so recognizable. Fayth glanced at her departing shadow as she heard a shriek heralding the arrival of a new opponent to put down.


End file.
